Rouge'
by Ciel Envoye
Summary: Darien is a college student, studying abroad in Amsterdam, when he becomes involved in the life of Serenity....
1. Default Chapter

Well, for those of you out there who are wondering WHY this story is being posted for a THIRD time, allow me to explain a few things:  
  
First off, I AM Sailor Europa. But like a couple other authors I know, I posted 'Rouge' under a different name (Ciel Envoyé) because, well, it's not EXACTLY my typical stuff. I was afraid that it wouldn't be well received, and I didn't want my other writing, the pieces done under the name Sailor Europa, to suffer any kind of stigma a story about Usagi being a prostitute might get. It also allowed me a certain freedom to do something that "Sailor Europa" might not do. But I think that doing all this made it THAT much easier for someone to steal this story; which actually happened. However, it's all over, and I'm coming clean. ^^ I'm still going to post on FF.net under the name Ciel Envoyé, but I'll make sure to reiterate the fact that I AM Sailor Europa.  
  
But for a week I had to fight, tooth and nail, to prove that I wrote this story. I'm not going to go into the gory details of how it went down (you'll have to wait for the book. ^^); just know that it's all over with and I don't wish anyone any harm. All is forgiven and I just want to be able to post in peace. However, during this whole thing, I was temporarily inactive and 'Rouge' was taken out of the database. So, in order to save time, I've smushed the two completed chapters together into one super installment! So you can read and have your eyeballs dry out all in one boring sitting! ^.^ For anyone who has had the good fortune to NOT have read this yet (RUN! Save yourselves NOW!), here are some old AN's -  
  
First and foremost, this has moderately strong language, meaning it has some curse words, but since I'm not particularly fond of such terms, I try to use them sparingly, or at least keep the characters away from situations where they would be used. I say that because this story's setting makes that hard.  
  
I am rating this R – (a low) NC-17, simply because of the main plot. I hate to spoil the surprise, but I've made Usagi a prostitute in the RLD in Amsterdam. The first chapter will pretty much have the bulk of what my friends have called "lemon scented" material; the remaining duration will be toned down even more than this, which, IMO, isn't at all bad. I know it may sound like I'm harping on this, but I really don't want anyone getting mad if they feel that this is sprung on them. However, I hope it doesn't sour you on the story. ^^ I believe the ending makes it worth it.  
  
A few Dutch terms explained ahead of time –  
  
"Liefje" = "darling"  
  
"vrijster" = "lover"  
  
"Walletjes" = another name for the Red Light District. Also referred to as Wallen.  
  
And now that all the yucky, unappealing stuff is over with, I hope you enjoy and I greatly appreciate any and all feedback! I don't particularly care for flames, but I resign to the fact that I can't exactly stop them. I'd love to know what you think!  
  
slr_europa@yahoo.com  
  
cielencoye@yahoo.com  
  
http://www.geocities.com/sailorananke/ropaville/main.html  
  
  
  
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Rouge, Part I of ?  
  
By Ciel Envoyé  
  
  
  
The lighting was subdued. Each of the strategically placed oil lamps were dimmed this, as in every, evening. Even in the darkened atmosphere though, Mamoru could make out the chic, almost to the garish point, décor. The period pieces decorated and laid all over seemed so unassuming; so oblivious. The cramped quarters that blended so well into the classic architecture outside, were well crafted in the same fashion inside. Tiny cherubs smiled, nude and innocent, holding candles, ash trays and couches, gilded to a sheen. Their solid eyes had seen all there was to see, in this of all places. They had been there for centuries; living through a loving marriage in which they began their life as a principle gift, gently set aside the dwelling. And now, to weary travelers and regular clientele, they provided a refuge; a recovery from the modern.  
  
The deep mauve undertones of the setting were mood-inducing, to be blunt. It was a happy coincidence that this business should select this location with its almost perfectly fitting emotional feel. It was at home in these furnishings, as if they had been made, hundreds of years earlier, under such opposing circumstances, to sit where they were now, for the purpose they now filled.  
  
Velvet curtains were drawn aside in a classic fashion and led the raven haired gentleman further through the establishment. He was Asian, although one would have to be prompted to openly notice such a detail. His eyes were a deep navy hue, and his creamy, rich complexion off-set the contrast of the liquid pools. He was part American, proudly and openly. But his accent was laden with the tones of a native Japanese tongue.  
  
He was obviously handsome, and unlikely as the skeptical might assume, not an uncommon site at such a business. The shunned and the shy were a staple; but the staff was accustomed to all varieties of clients. The well-placed clothing was a tip-off that the young man was looking for thrills from such an infamous establishment. To the entertainers and escorts of the Walletjes, nothing was surprising.  
  
The gentleman, obviously a bit uncomfortable in his new surroundings, walked tentatively to the bar and sat. Perched at the edge of his stool, he leaned forward and stared straight ahead. The femme's in the room gave each other an amused eye; typical. While the man had, of course, never been to this type of club before, he knew what to do and what not to do. He didn't speak a word, and played it cool; or tried to, at least. His stance was so rigid, anyone could see with an untrained eye that he was all a twitter with nerves.  
  
"He's cute. I wouldn't mind."  
  
"Oh please! Do you ever?"  
  
"Of course! What the hell kinda question is that?!"  
  
"Well for God's sake, you can hardly keep those washed-up limbs of yours from…"  
  
"You little whore! Shut the fuck up!"  
  
The dark haired man looked up as the male bartender approached his side. With the flick of his wrist, he sent the servant away and let his calm façade droop; he stared at his shoes for minutes on end. The girls rated their consumer as soon as his attention was once again locked elsewhere.  
  
"He's fresh. He won't be picky."  
  
"Not like it matters. He doesn't need to be."  
  
"Now if he went down the street…."  
  
"It'd be like trying to find a flower in a garden full of weeds."  
  
The few who participated erupted into laughter. His ears perked up from 50 feet away, and he tilted his head in their direction. One of the more brash elders moved to steal his gaze. With slow deliberation she licked her lips as if spotting her prey and anticipating the inevitable kill. A couple of the others picked up on his unease; or was it disgust? It didn't matter. The selection was narrowed down a bit at the sign. Once the introductions were over he would have weeded out her and those of her like. And those who knew the houses, knew that innocence was a rare and precious commodity. And sincere naiveté appeared to be nil. His choices would be few.  
  
"Liefje…" Annemie snuck up like cat from behind and sprung, slipping her arm smoothly around his shoulders. A few of the newer members of staff watched in envy and admiration. To start up the relationship in such a bold and sassy approach was something only seasoned veterans dared to do. And slight show of self-consciousness was suicide to a girls career. Confidence was a necessity, and only a select dared to use it, while even fewer succeeded. Many a customer had been thoroughly turned off by such vulgar utterances and left without even ordering a drink. Of course, it often ended with a worthwhile tip; the sign of a cocky client who would, without a doubt, return.  
  
"Hello." His dutch was broken, and even he could see her eyes immediately widen at such a simple word. His tone was indeed untainted; such a delicious sign of youth. He wouldn't be here if he weren't curious and yet, he wouldn't have stayed so collected if he were "inexperienced", either. This was the job women fought over.  
  
"Do you have a name, vrijster?" She cooed into his ear. He was growing more visibly queasy by the second. She knew it wasn't going over well, and she backtracked at a last ditch attempt to save herself. "How are you doing?" She abandoned her previous approach and sat at the seat next to him. She slipped one leg expertly over the other and arched her back to get closer.  
  
"Mamoru." He choked out. Silently she sighed. Lost cause, and she was not about to throw herself and risk a probation. Madame Isabelle hated to see her ladies act like anything else than she boasted them off. She needed the money, and being stuck with a week away from the house was not an option.  
  
"I hope you enjoy yourself, Mamoru." She let his name roll off her tongue, curving the edge of her lips into a devilish smile, preserving and holding her reputation by a thread. She'd let someone else take a crack at the marble figure, now holding a Guinness in his left hand, untouched. Her movements away from the scene were as fluid as her approach had been, but her expression was defeated; a sight he couldn't tell from his vantage.  
  
Two more tried the same with similar results. They had all seen their share of fickle customers, but rarely did they find such a well-bred foreigner who had his eye finely tuned to the point where he could tell within seconds if he would spend his money on you. The Student, as they quickly dubbed him, was rapidly becoming a-typical, as clientele ran. He was young and handsome, but looking for something in particular. Not a quick romp, pet, massage or the like, but a serious formulated plan. A few of the ladies in the establishment wondered why, with such tastes, he wasn't engaged in the act with a more serious and committed relationship. He was seeking their company, but wanted his own needs met and by someone he was willing to pick out.  
  
"Mamoru, is it?"  
  
Almost as if he had forgotten where he was, the broad shoulders jerked around into the cushions of his seat-back.  
  
"Yes." He replied shortly. He bristled, waiting for her caress as the others had given, but instead found her hand thrust into his own and being shook vigorously. Shocked, he checked her glowing expression.  
  
"Serenity."  
  
She was short, and it was quite an amusing spectacle as she pulled herself, after much hesitation, onto the unoccupied stool next to him. He was watching her every move. She was different than those who had come before.  
  
"Serenity…." He chewed on the name for a few seconds, and she cocked her head to the left, then the right, waiting to see his reaction. He could not sense her pounding heart, the same throb that occurred each time this event began. The initial exchange of formalities was grueling, for both parties involved.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, in the hushed lighting of the room, he watched her easy movements. They weren't seductive; at least not deliberately. He blinked and realized instantly that she was who he had come here for. Her long blonde hair was slightly curled at the ends of the pig-tails, which were in turn tied in duel buns on either side of her head, and he was hypnotized by the dancing light from the whale oil lamps at the corners of the bar. Her make-up was pointless. Perhaps he could request that she remove it. He gave a half-smile at the idea.  
  
"Where are the rooms?"  
  
  
  
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"I'm not sure how this works…." The young man had let his confidence slip around his ankles, and now stuttered slightly before his new purchase. Serenity was seating herself comfortably on the grand, four poster bed, watching him contentedly.  
  
"Don't worry. Your nerves will let up soon…." Her painted lips urged lowly. She leaned back on her hands and slowly crossed one leg over the other, eyes locking with his. He stared at her light blue gaze for a few moments before removing his jacket and clutching it in front of him. He was obviously fidgeting mercilessly, and her cool persona was not wavering in the slightest. Mamoru could imagine that she was designed to be this way; steady in such shaky company. He mused that this must be what kept customers paying. She wasn't impatient, and a disconcerting question nagged him. How many others had been the same way as he?  
  
Sensing his unease, she let her loose limbs unclench as she stood up to approach him. A reflex in his mind asked his body to back up; he wasn't accustomed to this. But he stayed. She was wearing an easy smile, dark liner circling her eye-lids expertly, covering any secrets she could have been hiding. Had he been in his natural state, he might have contemplated all the problems and mysteries a woman in her profession could have.  
  
"Sweetheart…" She cradled his head with her arms as she spoke, stroking his cheek and letting her breath waft across his skin. His shoulders were unwinding with each breezy word she uttered. "Don't be scared. I won't bite." She stood on her toes to ruffle her eyelashes over his face in butterfly kisses. "Unless that's your fancy."  
  
He was absently staring down at his shoes, but with her in close proximity, it was increasingly harder to avoid seeing her movements. She smelled like citrus and soap. He was praying that he could overcome his momentary fears soon; he had already laid down the money, and it would be such a shame to let it rot.  
  
"Mamoru…." Her voice was low and lingering, testing the name and pretending to find it to her liking. She rather enjoyed this particular part of a job. The actual "act", so to speak, was not bad, but it had become meaningless and almost mundane. In these rooms, to the guests, everything was happening for the first time. But the girls saw the same walls of each of the six rooms more than once a week. The décor was romantic to outsiders; quaint and appropriate. But Serenity found it hard to see the charm in anything that took place in here; it all equaled out to payroll, and she couldn't imagine it any other way.  
  
"Let me help you relax, Mamo-chan…." His head jerked upwards at her command of his native tongue. He hadn't any idea how she could have guessed his nationality; he was mistaken for a bloody American more than anything else. Either not noticing his shock or choosing to ignore it, she kissed his cheek tenderly, reminding Mamoru of a maternal instinct more than seduction. She lifted her arms gingerly from his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair. "Close your eyes, love…" She whispered. He complied obediently. With expertise, she wove her fingers into the muscles in his back, bending and moving them at will. His whole body desired to please her and he felt immediately at her mercy. He had envisioned this experience to feel unnatural, but as she massaged his overworked body, he couldn't conjure up a more correct scenerio. The oddities that took place in the bar were in the past; a surreal dream. He hadn't a clue how he had wound up in this room with Serenity, but he was content with it. Very content.  
  
Without asking permission, her speed escalated as she pulled the jacket from his grasp with little reluctance on his part. She was humming as she moved, but Mamoru kept his eyes closed. He was far too comfortable to change things, and she didn't request anything else. He found it a bit amusing that she was calling the shots, even while she now held his money in her wallet. He could feel her fingers tracing the seam on his white, button down shirt. As her fingers walked their way up to his neck, she pulled back his collar and lightly kissed the defined bone structure. He craned his neck backwards, his lips parting in the act. He wanted to smile, but felt it inappropriate.  
  
There was a pause as her mouth detached from his skin, and Mamoru opened his eyes slowly, as if awakening from a sweet dream. Not even thinking, he held her serious gaze and placed his hands on her shoulders gently, then trailing them down her bare, exposed arms and back up again, finally encircling her svelte neck. Smiling slightly, eyes narrowed in precision, she lifted her hands again to his chest and fingered the iridescent buttons. She unclasped the bottom one slowly to begin with, and worked her way upwards. His mind had reverted to autopilot, and he voluntarily let his fingers unfasten each of the tiny buttons clinging to her skimpy black shirt in retaliation.  
  
With the scene unraveling as expected, she hooked a finger through the belt loops of his khaki's and pulled his partially exposed body to her own. She gingerly pulled her arms around his neck and completely slipped the useless shirt from his frame, letting her hands trail down his now bare chest. His back was quivering at her deft actions, surprised and pleased at how she handled him. He sensed that his time was running low, and he found himself anxious for the accepted progression of events in such a case. His nerves were all but unfounded; he had banished all the misgivings he'd initially poured on himself during his trip up here. He was imagining it ascending to a higher level still tonight, even.  
  
Instead of leading him onto the plush, velvet bed though, he found her pressing his upper body downwards into a deep red sofa, and then kneeling before him. He watched her intently, her expert hands pulling her body forward so that he appeared to be straddling her bust. She had entered the next level, slowly and deliberately avoiding his eyes as she tugged on his belt, finally unclasping it and leaning in to press another gentle, out of place peck on his navel. He found his mind falling into a blissful abyss, and drowning in whatever spell she had cast over him. He listened to her small, almost vulnerable giggle as she joined him in removing her top completely, revealing a pink lace bra underneath, almost ironically too innocent for such a professional. She placed her hands on either side of him and rose to her feet, yet bending over so that her face was centimeters from his.  
  
The low light from a crimson bulb on the left wall was cascading onto her features, and he found the best look at his gift for the first time all evening. Her make-up was as heavy as he had first imagined, but after such an encounter, bits had worn off and he did a double take at a few stray freckles dancing across her cheeks. His breathed halted in his lungs, and he furrowed his forehead. His brain was thinking under his lusts' sincere contradictions, and his movements were paused. Arms laid dormant around her thin waist, and his brain ignored his companion's insistent urges towards progression.  
  
"Mamo-chan…." Her voice rose in a high pitched giggle. His heart pounded in his ears, and even his lust and hormones receded when her innocent tone punctured his ears a second time. He pulled away.  
  
"M…Mamoru?"  
  
The vomit rose in his throat, and he stood, his feet barely able to stand still. His disgust was impossible to deny or hide, even from himself. His stomach lurched as he turned his back to her and crossed his arms over his exposed body, suddenly unbearably cold.  
  
Serenity was kneeling still, on the floor where he had once been with her. She stood, mistaking his sudden change in mood for a second guess on his own part. She strode to his side and touched his back, beginning to massage it once more. He jerked around, slapping her arm violently away. His eyes roved over her body with an intensity that scared her, and she tried in vain to cover the exposed skin she had so willingly left vulnerable moments before.  
  
"How old are you?" He hissed at her, and she felt her next breath freeze in her throat. The thick, seductive air had dropped like a stone, and along with him, she shivered at the latest mood.  
  
"W….What?"  
  
"How old are you, Serenity?" He asked once more, more sternly, his eyes almost horrifyingly abhorrent. She shook her head, unable to answer. "I know that there are limits here…."  
  
"If you weren't happy with the service…" She began, scrambling desperately to cover the tracks she was leaving. This had never happened to her before; no one had ever been so bold as to question her ethics.  
  
"It's not the service I'm upset with."  
  
"Sir-."  
  
"I want to know your age." His octave rose, and with a swift gesture, grasped her wrists in steel fists. She let a terrified squeak escape, and felt a few tears threaten to fall. The consequences of being caught were too awesome to think about, and no one had ever been able to approach her with this before….The tears fell eventually, and she closed her eyes, shaking her head violently. He jerked her body, not so gently, and practically snarled.  
  
"Please….Please, don't tell them you know." She sobbed, staring downwards, practically falling apart. He unwound his fingers, and she immediately fell to the floor, hands pulling on the carpet, small, underdeveloped knuckles turning white with such pressure. He blinked at her, not sure whether to be angry with the young girl, or to pity her. She had known what she was doing was wrong, but had committed the crime anyway.  
  
She looked so pathetic, a heap on the floor at his feet. Just a few minutes prior he had decided that nothing in the world was going to keep him from letting their relationship climax to a mind-boggling point. He was incredibly disgusted; with himself for coming to this establishment in the first place, with the sad, pitiful young woman in his company, and with the whole of Amsterdam for letting such an unforgivable indiscretion happen in the first place. It was no wonder he was attracted to her innocence; she was innocent to the core, even after living in this place long enough to be familiar with these lewd acts so well.  
  
"Oh God, please don't tell anyone…." She whimpered, her whole frame collapsing at his feet. He felt his anger escape right from his fingers, and he shook his head. "I'll do anything…" She choked on the words.  
  
The girl was so different, so completely naïve that he collected her up into his arms and sat beside her. He sighed heavily, holding her as she cried uncontrollably on his still bare shoulder. He mused at how similar this was to a few moments ago. But his emotions were tapered now, and he stroked her back in a more brotherly fashion.  
  
"I suppose you'll want a refund now…." She whispered after she had pulled herself together again.  
  
"No." They both rose, and he retrieved his discarded shirt from the floor and pulled his arms through the sleeves. She still stood, half naked and trying desperately to cover what he assumed was a body no older than 16. He handed her her own shirt and turned his back to button himself up.  
  
When he turned around, he found her more composed, physically, at least. She was dressed, but her eyes were still frightened. He suspected she didn't believe his intentions were true; but he disregarded her fears. In a day or two she would realize he had not revealed her secret, and she could return to her normal routine.  
  
If you could call it normal.  
  
He exhaled through his nose, and walked to the door, listening as he heard her soft footsteps pad slowly behind. He heard the hinges squeak, and before exiting, he turned around and impulsively pulled Serenity's delicate frame into an embrace. He inhaled her scent, the one he was drunk with 10 minutes before, and then kissed her tenderly on the forehead. Startled she pulled back a bit, and gave him a confused look, trying to wriggle from his arms. He pulled her tighter and shook his head, saddened beyond belief.  
  
"Good night, Serenity."  
  
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Rouge, Part II of ?  
  
By Ciel Envoyé  
  
  
  
Mamoru wandered amongst the natives in a daze. The off-white orb that now hung in the sky, replacing the low rays of the sun from his last encounter with the streets, was cascading stray shadows along a few cafés and clubs and houses, leading his way back into the residential area of Amsterdam. He had only been in town a week, but he had made this trip many times already; his nerves had inevitably gotten the better of him before this evening, and he would always sway on a heel and walk the few miles in the opposite direction to his hostel. Most nights no one was home; with the exception of their care-taker, who, thankfully, had no idea of his intentions and thought nothing of his nightly humiliation.  
  
But he had finally gathered up his courage early that morning, thanks to a few of his peers' glib comments about his wavering back-bone. It wasn't that he was afraid of the experience many of the other men swore by. The idea was merely disconcerting, to say the least.  
  
And his awkward ordeal with the raw Serenity had proven his initial fears correct.  
  
He shook his head, thoughts still swimming in a pool of revulsion as his mind caught swatches of scenes he'd lived through. The complete turn- around of emotions had sent him reeling, and he was still struggling to recover. He loathed himself for letting his lust impair his judgment; once the revelation of her crimes had struck him, it seemed as plain as the moon in the sky! How could he have missed it when he was suggesting the two retreat to a room not even 30 minutes prior in the bar?  
  
And of course, his pity for the poor girl was evident amidst all other feelings. He couldn't resist the urge to shake his head in sympathy each time he thought of the look of pure shock and fear when he had questioned her. He had almost expected vehemence and flames to meet his inquiries; but tears? And her quick response, her expression crossing with horror within seconds had made him almost positive that the emotions were genuine. So how did her initially seductive, alluring persona match up with the scared, shaking little girl he left alone in that room?  
  
He tried, futilely, to banish the thoughts from his head as he retrieved his room key from his pocket and entered the rather shabby hostel he was staying in. He exhaled in relief to find even the mistress out; shopping for groceries, he'd discovered after finding a note on the kitchen table. He moved about stealthily, attempting to seize any sound that might expose another warm-body in the lodging. He moved through the community room quickly, and jogged up the stairs, confident he had not passed another person on his trip.  
  
Once inside the safety of his now empty room, he stripped down and stepped into his navy blue robe. He plucked a towel from the cabinet on the far wall, and grabbed his toiletries from the top of his dresser and finally exited the room, aiming blankly for the shared bathroom, praying that a warm shower would wash away the repulsive slime he felt covered in, as well as clear his grave mood.  
  
He entered the sterile looking room, white walls recently scrubbed clean for its tenants. He flicked on the light switch and shielded his eyes, the already harsh rays of the bulbs reflecting painfully from the gleaming tiles around the shower basin and floor boards. He slipped the robe off and hung it on the knob as he slammed the door shut, unleashing some of his pent up aggressions on anything within reach. He tested the stream that emitted from the head before standing under the steady flow of muscle-relaxing liquid. Steam built up inside the tiny den he was encased in; he felt his sinuses clear, and his limbs go limp in their sockets as his body emptied into a hollow shell. His emotions no longer clouded his thoughts, and he smiled at the gradual relief quenching his heavy soul.  
  
He tilted his neck to the ceiling, letting the hot water pound in his ears, covering his already slick, fine hair, and plastering to his face. He sputtered, blissfully struggling to breath, each new instance a different distraction from his thought pattern from that night. His back unwrapped the knots his muscles had found themselves in and he lifted a well sculpted arm to massage the back of his neck.  
  
Through the roar of the shower, he heard snatches of laughter; a light, tinkling giggle; her fingers, masterfully unleashing his tension. Before he had a chance to deny it, his mind breathed a whispered reflection; he liked it.  
  
He reacted instinctively, his eyes snapping open like a reflex. The water stung his vision.  
  
"Damn it…" He muttered, partially at the pain his gaze was suffering from, but also from the lingering thought of his evening. His chest tightened. He was awash with thoughts, and he let out an involuntary sigh. The pounding waterfall kept rebounding from his exposed flesh; he suddenly felt wretched all over again.  
  
Utterly defeated, Mamoru turned the dial until the squeak of the pipes echoed across the stark walls, and the stream of liquid dissipated. He pulled back the curtain and stepped onto the fuzzy, shag bathmat and pulled his towel from the counter where he'd left it, and raked it through his hair. He distracted his weary mind with the task of drying himself off, finally recovering himself with the robe once again.  
  
He hadn't a clue how long he had been in there, but when he reemerged, he heard the voices of his peers coming from various points in the residency. His eyes shut immediately in dejection; he wouldn't be able to avoid the interrogation forever.  
  
Once inside his room, he ecstatically found it empty. His roommate must've been downstairs with the others; or, he was still out painting this dismal town red. Either way, Mamoru didn't care. Perhaps he could side-step the questions all together, at least until the morning came and he returned to his classes at the University. Mamoru knew that they would all be expecting a full report; either on his latest, pathetic excuse for why he hadn't gone through with the task once again, or how the evening had faired at the club. All of those he was staying with were either natives to Amsterdam, and consequently on friendly terms with all of the girls at Wallen, or they had already taken the obligatory trip to the Red Light District.  
  
Mamoru slung his damp towel around his neck, and pulled on his night clothes as quickly as possible. He hoped to avoid any kind of disturbance at all and sneak into bed, unbeknownst by the rest of the crew in the community room downstairs. Deep in thought, he yanked the drawstring of his flannel pants tighter, and then slipped into a cotton tee before tossing his wet items into the laundry.  
  
He laid silently on his back, reluctant still to turn the lights in his room out. He knew that the illumination from the crack under the door was a dead give away, but the thought of lying awake for hours on end in pitch blackness, with only his soured memories of the last few hours to haunt him, was all together unappealing. He stared absently at the slightly dim ceiling and tilted his head to the right, contemplating the studded tiles as if they could answer all the oddities he couldn't seem to remove from his thoughts.  
  
"Chiba!"  
  
Completely startled from his personal universe and its problems, Mamoru lurched forward, finding his lanky, wild eyed roommate, Nicholas, standing in the doorway directly in front of his bed, still holding the knob in his left hand. The slightly shorter blonde Englishman leaned against the jam and nodded.  
  
"Didn't even know you were home, Mamoru. When did'ya get in?"  
  
Wishing to convey his annoyance, Mamoru turned over on his side, back now facing his companion.  
  
"Been here."  
  
"Why you up here all alone, then?"  
  
"I'm tired. Is that all right with you?" He barked sarcastically, taught muscles rotating around quickly to face him. Nicholas did not take the subtlety and pulled up the chair from the single desk at the corner of the room, and deposited himself in it.  
  
"It's perfectly fine." He replied calmly and planted his feet up on the skinny bed posts just next to Mamoru's line of view. The raven haired man frowned openly, staring angrily at the laces on his friend's Nike's. "Just as long as you're going to spill the details."  
  
"I'd rather sleep."  
  
"You know I won't let that happen until I get what I want."  
  
Mamoru sighed and sat up. His mind raced to come up with some options for the situation before Nicholas would have a chance to call the other loud-mouthed jack-asses up here to slap it out of him.  
  
"It went fine."  
  
The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about them, and as soon as they wafted into his ears, he knew he couldn't take it back. The fib would have to be carried out.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes. Why would I lie about it?"  
  
"Then why all the sneaking around?"  
  
"I wasn't sneaking around."  
  
"The hell you weren't, Mamoru." He snorted. "It's barely 9 in the evening, and you're practically passed out on your cot." His voice displayed his disbelief quite well, and Mamoru realized he would have to hustle in order to make it sincere. "You couldn't have been in there more than 30 minutes; there's no way she would have worn you out that much."  
  
"Look, I've told you guys before that this was not something I'm comfortable with doing." Mamoru's nerves were shattered from the experience he spoke of, however untruthful it was, and he was sensing that they wouldn't hold under this line of questioning. "I went to the club, and I stayed there this time. What more do you want from me?"  
  
"God, you had sex, Mamoru! You didn't kill a man."  
  
"I might as well have." He muttered as he fell back into his pillow and sighed. "This isn't under the circumstances I exactly relish. But I did it, and for the soul purpose of getting you and the rest of your bastard friends off my back." He gave a pointed look directly into the other mans clear brown eyes. "OK?"  
  
"I pity the poor woman who had to deal with you for a full half hour, Mamoru." The door slammed behind the departing young man, and Mamoru exhaled in relief as he reached up to yank the cord on his bedside lamp.  
  
"I do too."  
  
  
  
+*-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+  
  
  
  
"Serenity."  
  
"Hm?"  
  
The older woman approached the blonde, five inch heels clicking on the ornate marble floor before she paused directly in front of her.  
  
"You aren't working today, are you?"  
  
Serenity blushed and shook her head. She was still recovering from the previous night; she wasn't sure she could trust her fragile ego in the emotional state she had been thrown into. She had chosen to take her two days off this week in a row, and sleep at home without the possibility of disturbance. She had already started by buying herself groceries when she realized she had left her wallet in that damned room the night before. She couldn't even remember leaving the building early the next morning, let alone taking her personal belongings with her. So she had stopped off before the evening rush came, in order to take a look around.  
  
"No ma'am. I just think I left some stuff behind last night. I wanted to come retrieve it." Her voice was shaky as she spoke, but she let her signature smile slide onto her now naked lips.  
  
"What room?"  
  
"4, I believe."  
  
"That's vacant right now." Her employer pressed the key into her palm and smiled. "Try to be quiet. Veronique just took a client to 3; try not to disturb her business."  
  
The blonde flushed a bright color at the very unromantic terms her Madam used when discussing the events of their profession. It always seemed cold to the younger girl; unfulfilling.  
  
The identical sound of her shoes disappearing around the corner to the bar made her sigh and she started to ascend up the stairs, the same as she had almost 12 hours before. The fear and nausea crept into her chest and she drew in quick breaths to keep from panicking unnecessarily. She was seeing the stairway through fogged eyes; clouded with tears and marred by her memories. Everything from the night before had been a blur at this point. She could barely make out the mans facial features, his clothing, his body. From the second he popped the question, her emotions fell to her knees and she was having trouble pulling it back up again ever since.  
  
Within moments she was behind the door and with a sudden hesitation, she shoved the key into the lock and threw the door open.  
  
It looked so different. The natural light bathing the furniture in gold, instead of the gaudy red bulbs barely lighting the four corners. The bed was made and everything was spic and span; no signs of the scuffle she had experienced in such real, full color. She swallowed hard; it didn't feel like the same room. The ambiance was nonexistent.  
  
Shaking her head in exasperation, she spotted her small wallet and package of gum on the night stand, right next to the emergency alarm. It hadn't even occurred to her to use it the previous evening. It wouldn't have done her any good, as it was; Madam Isabelle would have rushed upstairs, only to find her in tears on the floor, with a half naked John threatening to expose her secret. No, she would have been in even more trouble than she was now.  
  
After snatching her possessions from the table she paused, seeing the large oak door from the opposite vantage point. She paused, thinking about the single incident that gave her the most distress from that night; his exit. He had held her almost possessively before wishing her a good night, and pressing a, oddly enough, tender kiss on her forehead. She barely remembered her tears halting in that confusing second. What could he have meant by it? And the way he embraced her as she wept….Serenity inhaled deeply, hopelessly lost in the significance of it all. He had been so afire with anger when the realization struck him, and yet so gentle when he whipped her tears away. She stopped as she gave the room one last burning glare.  
  
What on earth had happened last night?  
  
  
  
+*-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+  
  
  
  
"And the revolution began after the….."  
  
7:30 AM the next morning, and Mamoru was finding it close to impossible to pay attention. While his Dutch professor rattled off the causes of the French revolution in English, Mamoru sat in the back row of the stadium style room, holding at least 100 of his fellow foreign peers. He had always liked his World History classes, and he particularly liked the way this instructor taught all his courses in English. It had seemed more of a challenge, even though one of the requirements for attending this college program was an above-average fluency in the language, not all the teachers had to use it. Mamoru's Modern Psychology class, for example, was taught completely in Dutch by, oddly enough, an older French woman. He remembered vividly the first day of the semester, when she began her unorthodox teaching regiment; no one dared question the method, but odd expressions were exchanged between students throughout the three-hour period. Even now some of his peers would shaking their heads in amazement when she would rattle off case studies with a thick, Parisian accent.  
  
But Mamoru could not seem to shake his mind numbing conversation with the other males at the hostel over breakfast. Word had gotten around, as Mamoru had expected, that he had been to the club the night before. He was pretty sure that Nicholas had leaked the word as soon as he had shut the door to their room, and when he walked groggily downstairs earlier that morning, each of the faces at the table were grinning from ear to ear. He wasn't about to bring the subject up initially; he was in no hurry to discuss the events again. He had thought about them all night, and the last thing he wanted to talk about was "how she was".  
  
But that was exactly what they wanted to know. Now, Mamoru was a polite soul by nature, and not what his American friends would dub a "player". He did not kiss and tell, so to speak; so the blush that rose to his face when they approached him point-blank with the question of how his purchase had been was not a surprise. However, he wasn't sure he could get through the interrogation without humiliating himself anymore than he already had. He would either stumble horribly through the phony "gory details", or just bark some insulting remarks in their direction before stalking out of the door; the latter would only prove to get some more glib remarks later on, and the former was, well….too horrifying to even consider. So, he simply shut his mouth, and didn't respond to a word they asked him.  
  
Mamoru sighed, watching his instructor blankly as he began writing the textbook assignment for Friday morning. A few stragglers had already risen and started towards the door as Mamoru tucked his still empty notebook under his arm and stood up, stretching. Besides being preoccupied with the little matter from last night, he hadn't achieved the goal of sleeping, either. He was subconsciously glad that he wasn't driving while he was in Amsterdam; he would surely have been a safety hazard at this point in time.  
  
"Mamoru!"  
  
He turned around just as he stepped outside, the cold winter air stinging his lips, which he promptly licked to soothe them. He watched his friend Andrew grin as he jogged moderately before he paused at his side, running a hand through the thick mop he called hair.  
  
"Haven't seen you for a while, Chiba." He shrugged his pack farther onto his shoulder, staring straight ahead as he spoke. "Where ya' been?"  
  
"You mean you haven't heard?" Mamoru answered bitterly, scowling into the frosty breeze. "I would have thought those jack asses would have spread it all around Europe by now." Andrew chuckled.  
  
"Well, yeah, Nick couldn't stop laughing about it before Trig this morning. Just thought I'd give you the chance to spill first, though."  
  
Mamoru sighed in annoyance and rolled his eyes. Andrew was one of the few decent people whom he could actually stand to be around voluntarily in this school. When Mamoru had arrived from Tokyo 9 days ago, he had assessed that most of the guys in the hostel were fair. Perhaps not his choice for friends, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't be tempted to break their legs before the semester ended. And he still felt the same….However, that was providing they stayed out of his personal life.  
  
He'd already gotten the standard inquiries; who was he dating, did he have a picture, if so, did she have a sister? That type of thing. Photo's had been passed back and forth between the men the first night, and ended with typical displays of testosterone. Some cat calls, a couple lewd comments, a few obscene gestures. Nothing they hadn't been accustomed to. Mamoru himself, wasn't in a serious relationship, but the guys had taken a liking to the few photo's he did have on hand of Rei, his ex, in her Temple robe, and her friends. He didn't even have a chance to tell them she was still underage before he was thoroughly offended on her behalf. Sometimes, he had mused, he was extremely ashamed to be included in this gender group.  
  
As the night had worn on, the talk got a little more vulgar and made Mamoru consequently even more uncomfortable. The group of males was varied; some were from other parts of Europe, a few Americans, and even another Japanese male assembled under the same roof each night. But as he had glanced around that night, he was amazed to find he was the only one who seemed ill at ease with the topic they had landed on; The Red Light District.  
  
Mamoru was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a bit prudish. He'd had enough encounters with females to know just about all there was to know in the area of relationships. However, the open way the others discussed the intricacies of each experience horrified the conservative Mamoru beyond anything he could have imagined. He tried not to participate, but eventually, the few that had been to the Walletjes were taking turns giving their personal testimonies.  
  
But he could Andrew was different. He was an American, yes, which Mamoru actually saw as more vulgar than any other nationality, but a respectable one. He was here for the same duration as Mamoru, and the two had immediately teamed up as friends. Andrew was lucky however; his grandparents were Dutch, and quite wealthy as well, so he was staying with them in their home about a half hour from the University. Andrew was driven to and from school each day by a personal chauffer, and didn't have to put up with the immature yokels Mamoru saw each time the sun rose.  
  
"So you actually went to one of the clubs, eh?" Andrew finally prodded, his face completely ambivalent. Mamoru exhaled, not bothering to respond to his friend with his eyes.  
  
"Yeah." He said plainly.  
  
"Are you going to at least tell me what you thought, or do I have to keep beating you upside the head?" Andrew's voice was forced; Mamoru wondered if his friend wasn't as uncomfortable with this topic of conversation as he was.  
  
Mamoru paused before answering, debating on whether to tell Andrew the full truth of his incident at the club. Could he trust him with all the conflicting feelings he was experiencing? He hadn't known him more than a week, and the last thing he wanted was another voice to laugh at him. He'd had enough judgment as it was.  
  
"It wasn't what I expected." He said evenly, still not looking him in the eye.  
  
"Is that a good thing, or a bad one?"  
  
"I'm…not sure." He answered thoughtfully. Andrew stopped walking then, now thoroughly confused and showing it openly. Mamoru sighed and shook his head, knowing he was blocked into explaining himself now.  
  
"It didn't happen." He muttered, almost humiliated having to admit it to another soul.  
  
"You chickened out?"  
  
"No!" He shouted, almost too quickly. Andrew was taken aback, and Mamoru let out a frustrated groan, turning to the small, wooden bench on his right and tossing his books onto the seat. "No, its just….Something happened." The blonde leaned in closer, almost laughing at the others hesitant embarrassment. "It started to happen, and then I noticed that….that…." He finally growled, disgusted with the whole situation all over again, and disgusted with himself for having to relive it all. "The girl couldn't have been over 16 years old."  
  
"…Woah." Andrew whispered after a long, awkward pause. Mamoru snorted a disdainful, bitter laugh.  
  
"Yeah. Tell me about it."  
  
"Are you sure? I mean, these places are usually so good about screening that kind of information." He asked skeptically, then blushed a bit himself. "Or so I hear."  
  
"No, she was definitely NOT supposed to have been there."  
  
"So….What did you do?" He prodded and Mamoru shrugged.  
  
"I got a bit repulsed, confronted her and left. End of story."  
  
"Did she admit to it?"  
  
"Not at first." Mamoru replied. "She tried to pass it off as a cover- up of my displeasure, but I kept at it. She finally broke into tears and begged me not to tell anyone."  
  
"Woah." Andrew repeated and Mamoru nodded glumly. "I take it you aren't going back, then." He stated, rather than asked.  
  
"Damn right."  
  
"So….What's the big deal then? You're obviously a bit more upset over this than you're telling me. You look like you're ready to gnaw your arms off." Mamoru gave a short laugh at the very astute observation then sobered shortly after .  
  
"I don't know. It's like she was two different people last night. I had to do a complete shift in emotions, Andrew." He finally expounded, divulging details even he hadn't managed to reveal to himself up to this point. "I was *so* ready," He emphasized the last word. "And then I was reeling in the opposite direction two seconds later. And I'm still confused about it.  
  
"Not to mention I can't help but feel sorry for the poor girl." He shook his head as he had each time the sweet Serenity entered his mind. "How could such a young thing be so experienced with this type of contact, at such a tender age?"  
  
"You'd be surprised. I'd bet each club has, or has had, at least one underage entertainer." Andrew replied blandly. Mamoru gaped.  
  
"How is it then, that I'm the first one to have noticed it?"  
  
"You think you're the first to have found out?" Andrew practically doubled over in hysterics. "Please! I'll bet most guys are more pleased with their gift when they realize it's a newer model! None of them are going to jeopardize a good thing by spilling the beans."  
  
Mamoru was speechless with horror. He hadn't even thought that there was some sick pervert out there who got excited at the idea of sleeping with a vulnerable young woman. Shouldn't guys like that be behind bars?  
  
'Oh God, poor Serenity.' He thought to himself, shaking his head. He had a whole new level of empathy for her now. To think she probably put up with pedophiles on a regular basis was even more nauseating than his realization that he had almost become one of them.  
  
"Mamoru, does this mean you didn't tell the others what happened last night?" Andrew asked suddenly, shaking his companion from the silent reverie. Mamoru shook his head in a negative.  
  
"I don't think it would have been a good idea. Seeing as how most of them have a season pass to the Wallen, I don't think they would have shared my view on the situation." He replied. Andrew nodded in agreement.  
  
"I think that's best."  
  
  
  
+*-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+  
  
  
  
"Oooh, who got flowers?"  
  
"Serenity. Her attractive John from the night before."  
  
"That Asian chap?"  
  
"Was he Asian? God, I hadn't even noticed. Those eyes were sexy though. I don't think I would have had any trouble doing that job."  
  
"I never get tips like this. Wonder what she did that was so special?"  
  
"God only knows. Probably let the annoying giggle rip. I swear, if that high pitched wail doesn't make every man's blood rise…."  
  
"We're better off when she's not here. It's that young blood, I'm telling you."  
  
"Is there a card?"  
  
"For Gods sake, hun'!"  
  
"Oh, please. You can't tell me you weren't thinking about reading it yourself."  
  
"I didn't even have a chance to look."  
  
"Well look now!"  
  
"It just has his name. 'Chiba Mamoru'."  
  
"Well, that's not very original."  
  
+*-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+  
  
*slaps hands together* Welp, that's it for now! Chapter three has a couple more pages that need to be cranked out, but I'm hoping it won't be too long before I get it done. ^^; I can at least promise that it won't be another year…. Hope you enjoyed!  
  
FEEEEEEEEEEEEED-BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK…… 


	2. Chapter III

Hi again! I've had this done for quite a while now, but I've been trying to decide if I want   
to add anything to it or not… ^^ I decided 'not'. I couldn't think of anything amazing to   
tack onto the end, so I'll just pick it back up with chapter four! Anyway, I have a new e-  
mail address, but you can still reach me at the old ones, if you really want to. ^^ But I   
check this one more frequently. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Tell me what you think!   
  
ropachan@cox.net  
  
cielenvoye@yahoo.com  
  
http://www.geocities.com/sailorananke/ropaville/main.html  
  
  
+*-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+  
  
Rouge, Part III of ?  
By Ciel Envoyé  
  
  
  
"Serenity?"  
"Hm?" Came a muddled reply, hampered by clothes she was ruffling through.   
"Am I to assume that you are aware of the gift you received?"   
"Yes, Madam."   
"I take it you pleased our guest quite well." Her tongue clucked in response, and   
the blonde temptress bristled. She hated that sound.   
"I don't think he sent me flowers for being inhospitable." Came her tart reply. The   
pause from the other end told Serenity of her employers displeasure. She pretended to be   
engrossed with getting dressed for work, and didn't make a move to face her.   
"Then you won't be surprised that a Mamoru returned this afternoon and inquired   
as to your whereabouts."   
It was her swift mind that allowed Serenity the chance to compose herself, hidden   
from her elders wandering eyes, that kept her white face from being seen. She closed her   
eyes silently, still bending over her closet floor, and steadied her breathing.   
"Really?" She replied progressively. Much more confident than she felt.   
"Yes. I told him you wouldn't be on the clock until this evening." Even from her   
blocked vantage point, Serenity could tell she was smiling smugly. "I got the distinct   
impression he would be returning on account of your presence."   
"Repeat customers are nice." Her voice was small, and through weary lips she   
prayed Madam Isabelle wouldn't be able to tell.   
"I'll see you downstairs, sweetie."   
The door closed softly, and the blonde climbed out awkwardly from the closet,   
hindquarters first. She collapsed onto the deep burgundy carpet, and racked her fingers   
through its plush surface, tears threatening to spill.   
"Oh God." She whispered.  
  
+*-~-*+-~-*+-~-*+  
  
"You're awfully distracted tonight, baby."   
"Hm?"  
"You don't seem too on the ball."  
"I'm sorry. I don't know where my mind is."   
Serenity absently swirled her whiskey around, listening to the soft, crisp clink the   
ice made in the glass. She had made it a general rule not to drink on the job; too many   
opportunities to break the rules, she had found, when she was liquored up. But she was   
finding it hard to concentrate this evening. Madam wasn't the most honest soul; could she   
have been purposely trying to mess with her concentration?   
Her eyes were glued to the door, and she knew, subconsciously, that to all non-  
staff members, she must appear horribly naïve to this game. It had always been a part of   
their entertainers etiquette; anxiety does not pay well. And while most of the new girls   
that started on the pay roll made this mistake, it was uncommon for a seasoned escort.   
You learned quickly what brought in customers and what didn't. And being unsociable   
was a definite taboo.   
"Are you all right? You haven't had a offer all night." Annemie cooed from   
behind. Serenity's spine tingled with disgust. She hadn't bonded with any of the others   
she worked with, it was true, but she had found a specific distaste for the older woman.   
Madam had attributed it to the contrasting personas they each portrayed. Perhaps   
Annemie had seen her as competition, but Serenity had never felt threatened by her   
counterpart.   
She had been a favorite in the club, and most of the girls stayed out of her way.   
She was the oldest out of them all, which was not a common site. Most clientele were   
graying and wrinkled, and had spouses that mirrored their appearance, and so they came   
looking for the opposite. They wanted svelte, stick straight hair, and a smooth   
complexion, unscathed by years. And Annemie did not fit that description.   
Her hair was wavy and hung far past her hips, which, in itself was surprising.   
Madame liked it to stay shoulder length, or above. She'd said it looked like the whore's   
mane from the cheaper houses. Serenity didn't know for sure, but she took her word for   
it. But Annemie had gotten away with it. She was also taller, far lengthier than most,   
standing a good 6 inches above the others, Serenity included, and again, the matter of   
height was something their employer constantly harped on.   
But no one asked why. She was an intimidating presence, and had a personality   
all her own. She drew many repeat clients, but unlike a few other workers in the club,   
refused to share her tricks. While she was quick to point out what a girl was doing wrong,   
she would silence herself before uttering a word of assistance.  
"I'm fine. Thanks." She tried to manage a genuine smile, directed at the older   
woman, but found it lacking. Her emerald eyes bore down on her, and she couldn't shake   
the feeling a fly has just as its snared in a spiders web. She blinked, and excused herself   
from the group, seeking solace in one far end of the bar.   
"Serenity."   
She turned around, thrusting one of her blonde pigtails behind her on the stool   
where she now sat, and looked at Madam as she approached. Out of the corner of her eye   
she could see Annemie now coddling a younger man who had entered, leading him   
towards the stairs without a word. She involuntarily shuddered.   
"Yes?"   
"You've had a request."   
Her first of the night, she mused silently.   
"I've put him in room 2." Madame gave her a sly smile, as if the events that took   
place here were a closely guarded secret, and pressed a room key into her palm.   
Serenity left her untouched drink on the counter and slid off the stool expertly,   
smoothing out her black slip dress as she did. She passed a few others on her crossing,   
and ignored the snide comments that wafted into her ear. Were they so venomous   
because she had been more popular? Or was it because she too had found a way around   
many of the rules placed on the girls regarding their appearance? They never said an   
unkind word to her face, but she would have to be deaf and stupid if she didn't pay   
attention to the gossip she heard.   
Her back loosened a bit, the muscles relaxing as she was out of range from the   
others. She tried not to pay attention to them; they had no reason to be bitter. But that was   
a small comfort now. In the long run, it was just easier to isolate herself. She didn't come   
here to make friends; she came because the money was good, and she was able to support   
herself amply. She needed no other reason.   
Banishing the thoughts from her consciousness, she inhaled sharply and inserted   
the key into the lock without hesitation. After such long months in this business, it was   
hard to find any pleasure in any aspect surrounding her. However, call it an odd quirk,   
but Serenity got an odd thrill knowing someone asked specifically for her. She received   
no particular joy when completing her tasks, but being told you were doing something   
right was always an ego-boost.   
"Good evening." She cooed, as seductively as possible, as she closed the door   
behind her.   
"Serenity."   
She felt her blood run cold. She hadn't heard this voice often, outside of her   
frequent nightmares. The blood drained from her face and she blanched. Madam had told   
her that he had already been by early in the day for her; why was the site of Mamoru   
standing before her so surprising?   
"Wha…" Her throat immediately clenched at the very prospect of speaking, but   
she swallowed hard and tried once more. "What are you doing here?"   
Mamoru didn't answer. It never occurred to her that he might not know himself.   
She stood stalk still, her back pressed flat against the oak door she had just shut for   
privacy's sake. Neither one moved for moments on end, each waiting for the other to   
make the first move. A deadlock seemed to be in place, both participants not knowing   
what to expect from the other.  
"What do you want from me?" Came a frightened plea, and Serenity wasn't even   
sure if it had come from her to begin with. But as soon as his face softened into   
sympathy, she knew she'd let her vulnerability show once more. Tears cascaded down   
her cheeks and she choked on angry, troubled sobs that she knew would spell problems if   
any of the other workers overheard. Her sex-kitten act dropped now like a rock, she   
curled her arms around herself in defense, so afraid of what this man was seeing as he   
looked at her. What in the hell had he come back to do? This was misery he was putting   
her through and she couldn't imagine the kind of thrill he must get from coming back.   
"What do you WANT?!" She screamed, clenching her teeth to keep the sound   
from escaping. Her make-up was running and Mamoru couldn't help but begin to crack a   
bit. He honestly didn't know what had possessed him to come back. It had been almost   
48 hours since he had last retreated from this same residence, disgusted and terrified at   
what he had found here. The act as a whole repulsed him with himself the more and more   
he thought about it; but he knew that the very things that caused him to rush so swiftly   
away were the things that caused him to come back.   
Without thinking he gathered her up in his arms and held her gently. He knew   
instinctively that the source of her tears wasn't just him, although he may have been the   
immediate cause. This amount of bitterness and anger and cynicism was built from years   
of pent up frustration. It didn't take a genius to realize that a 16 year old girl selling her   
body for money had a lot more problems that just an age-deficiency.   
But Mamoru guessed the real mystery about this surreal scenario he was acting   
out was why he felt the need to do anything about it. Like Andrew had said, he couldn't   
have been the first to notice. And yet, he was obviously the only one to date who had   
cornered her with the inquiry. Even more, he had found his interest in the young woman   
piqued. Not exactly sexually, although he wouldn't be human if he didn't feel the residual   
effects of their short, intense encounter a few nights before. But no; this was compassion   
and a genuine desire to help the girl. How, he didn't know. He was only a college student   
himself, after all. He couldn't really offer her a better life, or even a train ticket out of   
town. But his longing to care for her, in some way, had been too strong to quell.   
Mamoru didn't know when, but eventually her back and limbs loosened   
considerably and she now was leaning tiredly into his embrace. Her cries for relief,   
however, refused to subside. He inhaled and rubbed her back in a fatherly manner,   
wishing just to bring some sort of comfort into her obviously jarring life. He knew that if   
the others back at the Home knew the kind of money he had just shelled out for an hour   
of absolutely nothing, he'd never hear the end of it. But aside from his misgivings about   
more potential ribbing, he knew that he needed to be here and he felt no need to leave   
until he had used up every last minute he'd paid for.   
The shuddering blonde had begun to give in to her bodies plea's for reassurance   
and reprieve and gradually found herself breathing in the very peace this man offered to   
her. Nothing made sense in her mind; moments before she would have bet money that   
Mamoru was back only to get what he didn't get the previous evening. And yet, now, she   
was practically snuggled warmly into his husky chest, inhaling his scent and finding it   
enormously soothing. It had to be a dream, she rationed.   
After almost 15 minutes of standing so stonily together, she pulled away and   
wiped roughly at her swollen, turbulent eyes and sniffled. It reminded Mamoru too much   
of a little girl afraid of the dark; he shivered, disturbed.   
"I don't understand this…." She mumbled, closing her eyes tightly as she tipped   
her head downwards. She could hear her counterpart sigh in exasperation.   
"God, I don't either. I really don't know what the hell I'm doing here…."   
Mamoru trailed off, taking a step back, for safety's sake. He ran a hand through his hair   
and found it slightly damp with perspiration. Undoubtedly from his jagged nerves.   
"I just had this picture of you…." He shook his head, and Serenity could see him   
visualizing the imaging. "I didn't like it. And I liked the idea that I'd caused it even less."   
"So you came back to ease your own conscience?" She bit out, her old gumption   
returning at his last remark. He cringed visibly, hurt by her insinuation, but collected   
himself automatically.   
"Can you blame me? I've never purchased sex before, and the one time I do I   
leave the girl in tears!" He barked, the tension from the past 36 hours being released   
through his words. Within seconds he regretted every syllable and his shoulders sagged in   
defeat again. He was trying to be a good guy here; why was this going so wrong?   
Tears sprung to her eyes again, and Mamoru could see her reach for the door knob   
behind her, but he hurriedly grabbed her arms in a vice grip that immobilized her. He was   
insistent and determined to get his foot from his mouth while he still had the chance.   
"What are you doing here?" She asked quietly, once more. Only, this time the   
overwhelming emotion riding her voice was confusion. Mamoru should have known   
she'd be untrusting; and he certainly wasn't doing much to ebb her doubt.   
"I… I don't know." He admitted honestly. She didn't seem too much more at ease   
with the explanation. "I've felt ill at ease since that night, and I can't shake the feeling   
that…" He groped for the right words, still holding her tightly before him. "That you   
don't belong here."   
"Well, how the hell would you know?" She practically snorted in distaste. But   
Mamoru stared coldly into her eyes and knew he had struck a cord. It was as if she had   
been waiting for someone to tell her what she's suspected all along.   
"No 16 year old girl should have to sell herself into this business." He   
backtracked. "No woman, in fact, should have to. No one deserves this." He leaned in   
closer to her face until she could feel the breathe from his nostrils tickle her cheeks.   
"Especially you."   
Her face scrunched up and she bit on the side of her cheek. She no longer had the   
urge to flee, but now she just felt hollow and empty. No one had ever told her anything   
like that; no one had even remotely likened her life to anything worthwhile. She had   
settled because she believed she could do no better. She'd always believed that. This man   
was the only one who couldn't see how worthless she was.   
"You're too young to be in this business, Serenity. Too young to be subjected to   
something so impure, on such a regular basis." Mamoru said intently, looking down at his   
watch, sighing. "But I don't have the money to buy up all your time."   
"I think my hour's up. I'm sure you're anxious to get back to work." Mamoru   
snarled out bitterly. Serenity just stared, aghast, at him as he gathered his leather jacket   
up off the floor beneath him. It had been a full 60 minutes and they hadn't even moved   
ten feet from the door, she marveled. She watched silently and moved from his path as he   
strolled back to the door to leave without uttering another word. Her brow was knit with   
worry and confusion and self-pity as she clutched her fists in front of her chest tightly,   
not knowing what to say, if anything. This had, without a doubt, been the oddest hour in   
her whole career at Wallen. She didn't know what to make of it.   
She was so caught up in her own mess of thoughts that she squeaked in shock as   
he pulled her back into his arms and clutched her tightly, possessively, just like the night   
before and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. Her chest seemed to cave in at her   
inability to breathe and she couldn't respond in any fashion, but Mamoru seemed to   
understand. He released her from his grip and opened the door swiftly, glancing back, not   
pity, but compassion and tenderness clouding his gaze this time.   
"Goodnight, Serenity."   
  
*****  
  
The moon hid itself from view as Mamoru walked himself back to the youth   
hostel just a few moments later. As the familiar street streamed into his consciousness, he   
was vaguely aware of the fact that he would need an excuse as to his whereabouts. His   
roommates certainly wouldn't let him off the hook easily; it was past 11PM, already. He   
squinted absently, relatively sure that none would even consider his returning to the club   
an option. He exhaled in relief. At least he would be spared another round of intense   
questioning tonight.  
With a sudden burst of ingenuity, he did an about face and headed in the opposite   
direction, towards a small, 24 hour market. He'd go in, buy some milk or soda or chips   
and then explain that he'd had the munchies and ducked out to buy a snack. He dug into   
his pants pocket and retrieved a few bills; just enough for some greasy potato chips. He   
grinned, not realizing before how famished he was. He's practically fasted the whole day   
out of anxiety. He hadn't known what to do this afternoon, but as soon as he made up his   
mind to visit Serenity again, he'd wasted no time. He had been there within the hour.   
After he'd entered the fluorescent-lit grocery and picked out his purchases he   
waited behind a staunch, short Dutch woman paying for three cartons of cigarettes.   
Mamoru couldn't help but notice that from her bloodshot eyes and yellow teeth, she   
didn't look like the little funnels of nicotine would do her any good. Not to mention she   
had one hanging from her chapped lips already and a pack opened in her hand. Mamoru   
shook his head; vices were horrible, life-wrecking things. He was verily glad he didn't   
have a one.   
He paid and continued his walk back to the hostel, newly opened bag of chips in   
hand. He'd practically inhaled the contents by the time he turned the knob to enter, but   
jumped back as it swung towards him and Andrew stood on the other end, looking just as   
surprised as Mamoru.   
"Woah! Hello!" The blonde chuckled, slapping the startled Mamoru on the back   
and thrusting him inside the building. The bright lighting scheme hit his cobalt eyes hard   
and he squinted after being under the evening sky for so long. "Thought we heard   
someone coming…."   
"What are you doing here, Andrew?" Mamoru asked casually, tossing his now   
empty bag into the garbage and popping the top on his liter of soda. "Slumming?" He   
asked sarcastically after taking a long swig. His friend smirked and crossed his arms.   
"Well, I gotta see how the other half lives…." He said with mock superiority and   
then winked good naturedly. "Don't worry. The chauffer will be around soon to relieve   
me from this squalor you guys are wallowing in…."  
"It's only a squalor when you're here, Andy." Mamoru ribbed. Andrew chuckled   
and flopped back onto the over-stuffed, worn in sofa near the corner of the room. Several   
of Mamoru's other flat-mates lounged around the room, a few acknowledging Mamoru's   
presence, a few more ignored him pointedly. It seemed that the handsome Asian man was   
a thorn in some sides.   
"Touché." Mamoru perched himself on the armrest of the sofa besides his blonde   
friend and finished off his drink and absently played with the hallow container. "What   
brings you back so late, anyway?"  
"Just hacking around, I guess." Mamoru shrugged, staring at the wall ahead of   
him with a vacant interest. "Nothing special."   
"Weren't picking up anymore of the lovely ladies from the Wall then, eh?"   
Andrew joked, chuckling. Mamoru snapped instantly, his neck twisting painfully in an   
involuntary reaction. He shot him the vilest look he could manage, causing Andrew to   
choke on his giggle. He coughed a second later and backtracked. "Just kidding, man." He   
hedged, and Mamoru simply stared incredulously. He hated to think that Andrew, the one   
person he'd felt akin to on this journey into testosterone-gone-awry, was turning into   
"one of them".   
"You better be…" Mamoru growled and Andrew could tell from his tone that he   
had hit the nail on the head. He straightened up and leaned into his now brooding friend   
so that no one could eavesdrop.   
"You did, didn't you?" He asked lowly. Mamoru's eye brow twitched, angry at   
his lightening quick temper; It always seemed to give him away at the most inopportune   
moments. Andrew took his silence as an affirmative and prodded some more. "Did you   
go see that same girl?"   
"Look, I'm not going to talk about this now." Mamoru replied, as coolly as he   
could manage, not bothering to look at his friend for even a moment. He knew his eyes   
would give away all the emotions that had coursed through his veins that night. He had to   
sort through them, by himself, before he could even think of discussing them with   
someone else. He had to decide what his level of commitment was with this girl; and he   
knew he wouldn't be able to be rational until he figured that out. "And especially not   
here." His gaze soured as he watched the rowdy figures around him drink and cuss and   
smoke and make obscene gestures, seemingly oblivious to anyone else around them.   
Mamoru was incredibly offended; he couldn't believe he belonged to this gender.   
"All right, it's your prerogative." Andrew replied, leaning back into the cushions   
of the puke-green sofa. "Just know that if you need a sounding board, I'm here." He said,   
and Mamoru nodded. He'd felt a bit closer to Andrew, at least in comparison to any of   
the other guys he saw on a regular basis. But he still hesitated at letting him in on what he   
was planning; maybe because even he didn't know what the hell would come of it. Or   
even what his motives were, for that matter. 


	3. Rouge' Chapter IV

Lalala! I am back! I hope this turns out as good as I want it to; I haven't been so   
committed to sitting down and writing SOMETHING, ANYTHING in a while. So if it   
sucks, then it's only because I was forcing myself to write. If it's good, well, who knew?   
^^ Hope you enjoy!  
  
ropachan@cox.net  
  
cielenvoye@yahoo.com  
  
http://www.geocities.com/sailorananke/ropaville/main.hmtl  
  
****************************************************************  
Rouge, Chapter IV/ ?  
by Ciel Envoyé  
  
  
  
  
  
Mamoru had found his classes, under certain present circumstances, almost   
unbearable. He tried to take notes; an action he usually forced himself into when he found   
his concentration waning, but still he got dismal results. His mind was focusing on that   
tiny, dimly lit club but a few minutes walk from his hostel….  
He growled lowly, scribbling out the chicken scratch he'd managed to scrawl on   
his notebook. A quick glance at the clock revealed he only had a few more minutes of the   
day left. He'd be able to exit this campus for the weekend then; something he'd thought   
about almost as much as he did Serenity.   
Serenity. He sighed when his thoughts settled on the specific focus of his   
distraction. He'd tried to force her from his thoughts during the day; he'd known that   
going to see her would prove to be a fatal mistake. Little did he know at the time that the   
fatality would be his academic career. He could handle the sleepless nights; but having to   
force himself to go to class after class, all the while suffering through the tragic memories   
of the past few nights…. He was pretty sure this was the type of thing that drove men   
insane.   
With little flourish, the professor closed his briefcase, and Mamoru was snapped   
out of his personal revelry. Students all around him were gathering their things and   
exiting the doors obliviously; Mamoru had to scramble to keep up. He was hit by the   
crisp air of Amsterdam as he pushed on the steel door, and he used a hand to force the   
collar of his jacket up around his face.   
Despite it all, he knew that he was going back tonight. It had been 3 days; he'd   
had to force himself not to return before tonight. He'd found himself more and more   
distracted each time he visited the strange, mysterious Serenity; going on a Friday night   
was a conscious decision. He could spend the next two days mulling over whatever took   
place, without fear of missing an assignment.   
This would be his fourth time seeing her. The last had consisted of nothing more   
than silence and a few choked, confused sobs on her part. Mamoru, again, held her, no,   
clutched her, possessively, knowing that he had to. He knew instinctively that no one   
ever had; it was another fact that saddened him about her. He'd almost been completely   
discouraged about his efforts that night. For almost 55 minutes he chastised himself for   
forcing the contact on her, and swore he wouldn't come back. He had hoped that it might   
make a difference, do the young thing some good. But he'd become discouraged and had   
started to leave when she suddenly threw her arms around his neck and to his complete   
and utter shock, hugged him. It reminded him of his younger cousins, how they used to   
throw themselves onto him and just grip him as if their goal was to pop his lungs.   
But Serenity's embrace was desperate and he sensed her vulnerability, even   
through the silence. The small gesture was all the prompting he needed to return. He   
never told her when; she never asked. Perhaps she liked the element of surprise; he didn't   
know. It didn't matter though. Both of them understood that he was coming back, and   
they would repeat the scenerio all over again. It was surreal and strange, but Mamoru   
never even considered the option of disappearing from her life. At least not now, and as   
far as he could tell, not for a while. He was willing to plan for a few weeks in the future,   
but his mind stopped, as if at an abyss, when it came to what happened after the semester   
was over. He had already crossed the line of friendship, but hadn't even come close to   
romance; that was something he never allowed himself to consider. It clearly was not an   
option presently.   
It was 4 PM as Mamoru entered the light din of the living quarters of his hostel.   
His room was empty; no doubt his crass roommate was fighting for space in the   
bathroom, preparing for a Friday night on the town. Mamoru took the rare moments of   
peace to collapse onto his double bed and savor his few silence-filled minutes. He   
thought of his home in urban Tokyo; his apartment, tiny and yet the only place in the   
world he ever felt at home in. He thought of Rei, and how, oddly enough, he missed her.   
He was fond of his exes; all of them. But Rei had become the closest to him, by far. But   
even she couldn't climb the walls he'd erected. Not that she hadn't tried, though.   
Mamoru sighed, reluctant to dive into such deep waters when he knew he   
wouldn't have the time to properly stew over them. He'd decided to visit Serenity early   
tonight; he hoped that in doing so, he could get a good nights rest. However, he knew the   
unlikelihood of even that. Even if he returned home earlier, that would only provide more   
time for rehashing the nights events.   
Rubbing his face, in an attempt to wash himself of any preoccupation, he stood,   
exhausted. He never realized how much simple thoughts could wear a person down. He'd   
down enough thinking the past week; he wasn't even sure what about, now. It always   
flitted from one random idea to another, and never really rested on anything for any   
considerable amount of time. He could say one thing for sure, though; most of the time,   
the strange girl at the club was usually at the root of his distraction.   
He pulled himself, groaning all the way, from his bed, painfully aware that his sad   
endeavor at resting failed. His body ached, but he was committed. He shook his neck; no   
need to let Serenity know that was the reason he kept returning though. He really wasn't   
sure if it was only the commitment that pulled him back. They never talked, and he   
hadn't formed any emotional bonds. No, they were tied together in a way a cop is   
connected to an innocent he saves; perhaps the ordeal was horrifying and he desires only   
to forget it, but that is impossible. Mamoru felt like the girls reluctant savior; it was by   
pure luck that he followed her to that room and that he had been the one to point the   
finger at her. He knew from the way she buckled immediately that she was a broken   
woman. Not even a woman; a girl. And Mamoru was, unfortunately, exactly the type of   
guy who had a hidden hero complex. Against the will of his common sense, he decided to   
help her. The poor thing.   
Glancing at the clock, Mamoru chose the chance to duck out early. It was hardly   
even a quarter past three, but he thought the extra 45 minutes of fresh air might clear his   
head. More importantly, it would get him out of the hostel before any even noticed he had   
come back. He didn't want to have to decline from offers to join them on their exploits   
that night; nor did he want to offer a reason as to why. He had been successful so far at   
avoiding any suspicion; no one had even seen him returning to distraught. But his logical   
brain told him that that was not going to continue forever. He was going to have to   
eventually formulate a plausible and continuing lie that would placate them. It was a   
good thing most of them were so dumb; it shouldn't be hard to fool them .  
Once more, he stepped out into the cold, less than half an hour after taking refuge   
from it in the hostel. He glanced around, trying to make up his mind as to which path to   
take. He could head directly for the club, and then find a place to sit remote to the   
building. Or he could take the long route around the adjoining blocks, and pass by the   
calm parks. The latter was appealing to him; one large commons reminded him of a   
charming half-mile or so piece of land in Tokyo near his apartment. He wasn't a huge   
romantic, at least not in his own mind, but he found himself staring at the lake more than   
one night a week, just drowning in his thoughts. It struck him suddenly how much he   
missed Japan; he'd never been particularly patriotic, but being so far away from the   
familiar, the every-day, was jolting. He found an odd pang squeeze inside his chest.   
His pace quickened as he neared the park, and within minutes he had settled on a   
rather chilly cement bench. Mamoru leaned back blissfully, and watched the serene   
waters of the tiny pond lie so still. With the nip in the air and the dreary, cloudy sky, he   
could almost pretend it was frozen.   
"Mamoru?"   
He swiveled around, less surprised than curious. He didn't come around here   
often; he didn't think there was a chance could run into one of his mates.   
"What are you doing here?" Andrew asked, taking an uninvited seat next to   
Mamoru on the bench. He did unwelcome the company; however he really wasn't   
particularly interesting in keeping up with a conversation at this time.   
"Escaping." He said plainly, his eyes watching the water still, intently. He could   
see in his periphery that Andrew was nodding.   
"Nice place to do it."  
"I guess."   
"Seriously though, what are you doing here?" His question seemed new; as if he   
wasn't repeating himself. Mamoru could feel the annoyance begin to cloud his thinking.   
"I wanted to get away from the house." He answered, a bit more bitingly than   
before. "I've never been particularly fond of the monkeys that I stay with."   
"Yeah, well, duh." Andrew answered plainly. Mamoru could feel the edges of his   
mouth twitch in a smile. His blonde friend had a knack for dispelling any anger Mamoru   
might have pent up without even trying. "And I don't blame you. But I haven't seen you   
for days, and when I finally do, you're staring at some dinky pond like it might reveal all   
the secrets of the universe." He suddenly turned to face Mamoru, his face serious now.   
"So what gives?"   
"I think I was hoping this damn pond might just tell me everything I need to   
know." He exhaled and spoke something he instantly began to second guess. " 'Cause   
God knows I have no idea what I'm doing anymore."   
"Have you considered severing your connections with this girl, Mamoru?" He   
replied, cutting through all Mamoru's clever pretensions. Mamoru blinked, but didn't   
look at him. "I mean, damn, you really have no reason to…."  
"Geez, Andrew, I know!" He barked, covering his face with his hands. He shook   
his head violently and closed his eyes as tight as he could possibly get them, until he   
thought he might just suck them back into their sockets. He hated talking about this; he   
hated having someone else know about it. It made it more real; and if it was real, then   
Mamoru had to have a reason for doing it. And for all his pondering, he honestly didn't   
know what that was. "I have no idea what the hell I'm doing. I really don't." He laughed   
bitterly and finally craned his neck sideways to look his friend in the eye. "I can't help it.   
I know nothing about her, but I see her and it's like…like…" He pauses.   
"What?"  
"I don't know. Like I have no choice. It's like there's someone else, some other   
person, who's telling me that I have to. And I don't object; I just do it." He shrugged,   
knowing that nothing he just said made any sense. But it best described his feelings about   
the situation; he was at the mercy of some higher power.   
"Then maybe you should just stop questioning it." Was all his friend said.   
Mamoru couldn't help it; he laughed.   
"Excuse me? This from the guy who can't stop questioning it himself?"  
"You don't owe anything to me." Andrew shrugged, as if to accentuate his point   
by playing it cool. "But it's obviously eating you from the inside out." He raised an   
eyebrow at him. "You look like hell, man." Again, Mamoru laughed.   
"Yeah well, I'm going back to spend another hour with an underage prostitute that   
will spend the entire time, and all my money, I might add, crying on my shoulder. I   
honestly didn't picture this when I was packing for my semester abroad." He responded   
sarcastically. He inhaled deeply the crisp air and the pulled his hand behind his head and   
leaned back.   
"Fate's a bitch; it's never what you planned on."   
Mamoru felt like he had been struck. His companion stood up suddenly and   
stretched, signaling the end of his interrogation and their conversation.   
"I don't want to keep you from your plans." He turned around and continued on   
whatever road he had been taking when he found Mamoru, but turned around within a   
few seconds. "Just be careful over there." He called, almost casually, and stuffed his   
hands in his pockets as he walked.   
It was all Mamoru could do to exhale his cloudy breathe into the Amsterdam air   
as he turned back to the peaceful lake before him. He thought about the club and Serenity   
and glanced down at his watch. 5 till. He'd have to hussle if he wanted to beat the dinner   
crowd. He didn't want to be waiting; he knew that the more people that were there, the   
greater the chance that she might be "busy" when he arrived. And despite his private   
denial of anything other than a friendship had developed, he knew that was a thought he   
couldn't bear.   
  
*****  
  
"Mr. Chiba. It's so nice to see you again." The older woman greeted him warmly,   
a knowing smirk playing on her lips. He cringed; he wasn't sure he liked being known as   
a "regular" in such a place. "Am I correct in assuming you're here to see the lovely   
Serenity again?"   
Mamoru couldn't muster the words, so he nodded an affirmative. She smiled, as if   
he had just chosen the catch of the day from the menu, and waved him through the velvet   
curtains and into the bar. He caught a few smug glares from the ladies of the   
establishment, but pointedly ignored them and took a seat at the bar. The last time,   
Serenity had met him downstairs, and he followed her to another room up the stairs. He   
was sort of hoping that might be the case tonight; if others were around, it might force her   
to play nice.   
"Your lady is waiting in room 4. She's requested you meet her upstairs." Madame   
said lowly, pressing a hand to his back with one hand, and clutching a brass key in the   
other. She turned the large piece of metal to him and guided him towards the doorway   
without another word. When he was safely on his way, she went back to her station near   
the entrance, and left Mamoru to make the journey alone. His thoughts wondered to what   
state the innocent Serenity might be in tonight; scared again? Perhaps curious? He'd seen   
a number of emotions during their brief periods together. However nothing resembling   
joy ever joined that list. Mamoru hoped absently that he might be around long enough to   
see the day when it did.   
He let the key slip into the hole below the knob on the door marked with a faded   
'4' and let it creak open just a bit. He stepped in hesitantly and glanced around before his   
eyes landed on the petite form of Serenity. He was greatly relieved to see her standing in   
the center of the room, the very picture of vulnerability. Her arms were clutched tightly   
behind her and he could still see and sense her unease, but she was no longer afraid; that   
was evident immediately. Somehow his return had proven to her how earnest he was   
about his commitment, and he thanked whatever god there was for small favors.   
"Mamoru." She stated politely, as if it was a formal requirement, but refrained   
from smiling. But was it his imagination, or did he sense that she wanted to?   
"Serenity." He spoke, as tenderly as possible. He let his hands hang limp at his   
sides, conscious now of every limb in his body. She looked so frail; he was overcome   
with such an overwhelming need to shelter her. From what, he didn't know. Sometimes   
he thought from himself, but that was ridiculous. He felt awkward always at the   
beginning, but he smiled in spite of it, and that appeared to release her. She smiled back.   
"I knew….after last time, that you'd be back." Her face grew brighter as she   
spoke. She seemed uncomfortable speaking; he thought maybe this was as honest as   
she'd been in a while. "I don't know how."  
"I needed to. I think you needed me to, too." He replied. She ducked her head,   
wondering desperately how he had known. How he had figured out that she had prayed,   
simultaneously, for him to disappear forever and yet stay. There had been unspeakable   
comfort in his arms the last time they met. She hated that she was depending on him, on   
anyone, for anything. But this feeling was addicting, this security. It was a drug she'd   
never experienced before, but couldn't get enough of now.   
A tear slid down her cheek, and she had been so preoccupied with hiding her face   
that she hadn't heard him slip beside her. She was very aware of his slender yet hard arms   
as they encircled her, and for the first time she slid into them like a warm bath. Her   
fingers unclenched from behind her and she tentatively laid them loosely on his hips. She   
had hugged him last time; an act she had kicked herself for just seconds after his   
departure. But now she was afraid of being too open again; after an hour of openly   
sobbing, it hadn't been hard to take that last jump and just embrace him. If only to tell   
him she appreciated his actions, no matter how odd they seemed. But now, she had spent   
several days second guessing everything that went on between them, and she wasn't sure   
anymore. But she was able to breathe freely again when he took her small gesture and   
lifted her farther up, into a tighter embrace. She'd always been aware of how perfectly   
the male and female bodies fit together, but now it was almost alarming. It wasn't even   
the least bit sexual, and she could still feel the amazing curves of his body melt right into   
hers. It was something she experiences day after day, but it had never been this satisfying.   
More tears followed the solitary one from moments before, but they were alone   
this time. No incessant sobbing or choking accompanied them. It was almost like magic.   
She was so used to crying after every hour that she spent with a man; a hobby she had   
taken up only recently. It was like purging her body of all the unwanted fluids   
symbolically. She couldn't rid herself of the filth the men brought with them, but it at   
least made her feel better.   
Mamoru pulled away a bit, but still kept a vice grip around her torso, and looked   
down at her intently. She disliked his scrutinizing eyes; sometimes she wondered if   
maybe he was searching for reasons to leave and never come back. She could offer him   
enough of those, but as time wore on, she wanted nothing more than to hide anything that   
might make him do so.   
"Please talk to me tonight." He pleaded, and she gasped at how desperate he   
sounded. It was this sincere interest that made her decide to comply finally. "I want to   
know about you, Serenity."   
"What about?" She asked, forcing a laugh. "You've already guessed more than   
anyone else dared."   
"Why is a girl like you in a place like this?" He asked, still piercing her with his   
eyes. His penetrating orbs were opening her up with such ease.   
"Good money." She laughed bitterly and she could sense his disappointed in her   
answer immediately, which sent her spirit sinking. "I'm sorry, bad joke." She said,   
sobering. "I don't know why, I guess. It seemed to… fit."   
"Fit?" He seemed confused. She swallowed and nodded, slipping into the   
conversation with comfort. It was an argument she'd heard a thousand times in her own   
head as she rationalized her profession to herself each night as she drifted off to sleep.   
"I came here after my father kicked me out. I didn't think I'd be able to do   
anything else." She shrugged half-heartedly. It was funny; this sounded so much better in   
her head.   
"Your father kicked you out?" Mamoru asked, even though he was acutely aware   
of how much deeper the waters were now. This was delving father than he had before,   
and he wondered if he wasn't pushing her too much, too soon. But she continued, turning   
away and playing with the velvet couch behind her.   
"Yeah. When I was 15. For the life of me, I don't know why he didn't do it   
sooner. It's not like he didn't want to." She stated simply, like it was just another fact of   
life. He squinted at her back, wondering where a girl got the notion that it really was just   
that simple and just. He could see her spine loosen as she began to unwind a bit more,   
and he piqued his attention for more. "I never knew my mother. She was from Kyoto, but   
came here when she was young and met my father. They married before she was 20, but   
she died within a year." Mamoru could feel his chest constrict as he waited for the   
inevitable to follow. "She died giving birth to me."   
He had figured as much, but it still shook him to hear her say it aloud. Things   
were beginning to make more sense to him. Serenity was a little less of a mystery   
anymore.   
"I heard about my mother my whole life. She was perfect; my father called her a   
fallen angel." She stopped, and from his blocked vantage, Mamoru imagined her smiling.   
"I wish I could have known her." She said, in a small voice. He instantly knew that was   
enough; to probe her anymore on the subject would have been cruel. He stepped a bit   
closer and wrapped a single arm around her waste protectively. She didn't tense at the   
contact this time though; instead, she leaned her neck back and sighed. Within seconds he   
could feel the tears fall onto his arm and he let go once again and pulled her around to   
face him.   
"Your mother was from Japan." He stated and she nodded, tears paused on her   
pink cheeks. He smiled warmly. "I'm from Tokyo." He was delighted by the grin that lit   
up her face. She was a completely different person when she smiled.   
"I could tell you weren't from around here."   
He gave her a lop-sided smirk and let his arms drop. "I never would have guessed   
it from you though. The blonde hair hides it well, Serenity."   
Her eyes clouded over again, despite the beam on her lips. His look grew   
concerned, and he dipped his head to get closer.   
"What is it?"   
"My mothers name was Serenity. That's why I chose it for my work." She inhaled   
shakily, as if she was uncertain she should be revealing this information. He waited   
patiently for her to continue. "My mother always wore her hair in the buns, my father   
said. He called her his asian rabbit." She blushed at this. "So when he had to choose a   
name for me, he called me Usagi." Her voice grew soft and she began to stare down at   
the floor.  
"Usagi…." Mamoru tried out the name, tasting it. She stared up at him now,   
watching him curiously, her previous moments of destitution gone. "I think it's perfect."   
She blushed a hot pink color, and he marveled at the change that had taken place in such   
a short time in her. And in himself, as well. He knew time was wearing thin, so he had to   
take a leap. Now.   
"Come see me, Usagi."   
"Wha…What?"   
He almost regretted the request when he saw the fear drift back onto her delicate   
features.   
"I've been here four times now. I want you to come and visit me." He explained.   
Mamoru could see several emotions travel through her eyes, and he hoped that she could   
see how sincere he was in asking such a thing. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing her   
in this place anymore. He was even more convinced after this that she didn't belong here;   
and if at all possible, he wanted to avoid it at all costs. "You're so out of place here,   
Usagi. It just seems wrong." He pulled his hand up to stroke her cheek tenderly and he   
could feel her tremble under his fingers. And yet she didn't move away.   
She licked her lips and closed her eyes, hating herself for enjoying the sensation   
of the gentle stroking from the pads on his fingers. She knew she shouldn't; she'd regret   
it later on, she told herself. But she couldn't stop the words from forming on her lips.   
"Where and when?"  
  
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Hope you all enjoyed! Feedback is MUCHO appreciated! ^^   
  
ropachan@cox.net  
  
cielenvoye@yahoo.com 


	4. Rouge' Chapter V

Tra la la la la! I know I said I was retiring from FF..... But I got thinking about how going away to college was going to leave most (*coughs* OK, ALL) of my stories undone. So I decided that, just for you poor, pitiful Sailor Europa fans (all three of you), I would do my best to finish up my favorite stories, i.e., all of them. I have such a conceited, narcissistic love for all my work that I will give it my all and try to get them done. I know that if I DON'T, I will probably spend a lot of time in college finishing them in my mind. And I want to focus on school while I'm there (IT'S TRUE!). So, here is chapter 5 of 'Rouge'. It's finally hit a crucial point, and there is only a couple of ways it can go from here. Any of you who know me, know which way that will, inevitably, be. But still, feedback is appreciated. And hopefully you all will enjoy!  
  
ropachan@cox.net  
  
cielenvoye@yahoo.com  
  
http://www.geocities.com/sailorananke/  
  
  
*******************************************************  
'Rouge'  
Chapter 5  
  
By Sailor Europa  
  
  
  
It had been years since Usagi had been out like this.   
  
It wasn't that she didn't leave her apartment. No, she simply wasn't used to feeling so exposed. It felt unnatural, somehow. She obviously had to shop at the grocery, pick up dry-cleaning, make bank deposits. But this was different; this was social.   
  
She tugged at the hem of her peach cardigan sweater as she walked. Mamoru had asked her to meet him at a cozy little coffee shop around his school. She knew where it was. She had never been there personally, but she'd passed it. She reminisced of how upon her first arrival in Amsterdam, she dreamed of sitting under the canopies and sipping tea from tiny little shops like this. But now she wouldn't dream of it; she was afraid of soiling the pure white that seemed to just overflow from these establishments. She didn't feel like she fit in with this crowd anymore; Usagi now belonged to the seedy, dark and noisy night club sect. And they had welcomed her so unabashedly. It seemed they accepted just about anybody.   
  
She was afraid now that she would stick out like a sore thumb; that the stout, elderly owners would shake their salt & pepper heads as soon as she entered. They'd know instantly what kind of girl she was. She was scared to death of being found out. She was sacred to death of not fitting in.  
  
Everything within her had begged her lips to decline from Mamoru's offer the night before. Even now she thought of standing him up; even as she approached the very address that he was already waiting for her at, she had fleeting thoughts of retreating. Maybe if she did, he'd never come back. Maybe he would see he'd made a mistake and just wash his hands of her all together. To be honest, she had no idea why she was even here. It was clear that she really didn't belong in this world; these people could not be human. At least, not the same kind as her.   
  
But just the stitches of memory that wove through her mind from the previous evening tainted her better judgment and common sense. When she closed her eyes the feeling of his gentle fingers on her face shut down all her other faculties; it was as if she was paralyzed. It scared her; no man, no matter how intimate they had become, had ever made her body feel that way. Sexuality and commonplace arousal were normal for her; it didn't take much to awaken her body. But her mind was so alert, she realized, when Mamoru was within proximity. And something inside her felt like it was blossoming - to the point where it filled her inner cavity and threw out everything else. She was frightened. Frightened of being hurt, of hurting him, of feeling too much, too soon.   
  
She could already see the back of his head from where she stood on the other side of the street. The rickety cobblestones were all that kept her from him now. She swallowed hard, envious of how picture perfect he looked, sitting with his legs crossed at a wrought iron table, sipping a large mug of coffee. He looked classic; she felt so out of place already, and she hadn't even formally arrived. Every instinct told her to flee, before he turned around and saw her. But she thought about how he had come to her side, without fail. He never promised or committed to anything; and yet he was always there. It was an unspeakable comfort that had become a firm foundation in so short a time. He had made a simple request; she would feel even worse if she didn't fill it. After all he'd done for her. She had to do this for him.   
  
She took one last breath and jogged hurriedly across the street, her eyes stationary. She stared at his silky strands of raven hair like the tape at the end of a race; if she didn't watch the goal, she knew she'd bow out for fear of failure. But even as she neared, her pulse quickened. Why had she come again? More importantly, why had he come? Why did he feel the need to see her anymore? This was insanity; she should just go.   
  
But fate had a different idea in mind, as just as she had had enough and paused to rethink her plans, Mamoru's head ducked downwards and he retrieved a fallen napkin. In the process, however, caught a sliver of a glance of a blonde bun and swiveled immediately. Usagi's heart shook and trembled as if in an earthquake waiting for his reaction. Without missing a beat, he stood; he'd hoped the smile was sincere enough to dispel the anxiety written all over her face. She felt her body relent and give in to her hearts desire to stay.   
  
"I was starting to think you wouldn't show." He said softly once she had set her bag tentatively down on the glass table top with a dull thud. She blushed, ashamed she'd given him cause to doubt her. He instantly made her want to be a better person. It seemed that just impressing him with something small was satisfying enough.   
  
"I don't know why I did." She replied, clasping her hands in her lap. She clutched her fingers together tightly, nervously. He didn't even have to look down before he instinctively grabbed a wrist and laced his own strong digits into her own. Her neck felt tight and it rose upwards steadily as he looked at her.   
  
"I don't know either." He spoke lowly, as if he didn't want anyone else to hear this confession. "I'm so glad you did, though."   
  
Her heart was thumping madly into her rib-cage within moments, and she felt light headed. She wasn't sure what was going on inside her body. It was entirely possible, she thought to herself, that this was what all little girls dream of. She could very well be falling for this man, learning to trust him. But, she reminded her foolish heart, that Mamoru, this gentle, handsome, honest man, would never return it. She was a whore, and she had to remember that. She would not let her trust be dashed to bits by a common Jon.   
  
She ducked her head quickly to hide the blush creeping onto her cheeks. She wasn't accustomed to this openness. Physically, it was a second nature, but there were times when she knew without a doubt that words were much harder to take back. It was so easy to express your feelings with touch; but when you spoke phrases of and with such tenderness, you either had to really believe them, or know you were lying. Usagi was deathly afraid of both. She didn't believe herself good enough for love, but she wanted it so badly; which left her open and vulnerable for rejection. And in her profession, that wasn't uncommon.  
  
"Do you want anything?" Mamoru asked, sitting down across the table from her. "Coffee? Tea? A sandwich?" She thought for a moment, before realizing she didn't have any money on her. She wouldn't be paid until tonight, and she hadn't a chance to grab some cash before leaving in such an anxious haste. She could feel her cheeks redden again and decided to decline.   
  
"No, thanks. I'm fine." She said quietly. As if to torture her, however, her stomach shook quietly, and she scrunched up her nose in mock anger. She'd hardly been able to eat anything earlier; her thoughts were running over every possible scenario that might play out during this meeting. Now, as it stood, she was regretting that.   
  
"Are you sure?" Usagi looked up in shock. His head was tilted to the side in suspicion, and she blinked. It was as if he had eavesdropped on the whole conversation she'd had in her head. She didn't reply out of shock and this only received a playful grin from Mamoru. "Aha. I thought so."   
  
He fingered a waiter that was passing by and spoke without even consulting her.   
  
"I need a refill, and the lady will have a hamburger, fries and coffee." He looked back at her easily, as if she had consented to this. "Cream or sugar?"   
  
Usagi nodded numbly, unsure how to react. She knew that many women would have been offended; not only had he second guessed her, but he took the liberty of choosing what she would eat too. But in truth, a burger was exactly what Usagi was craving. She had a wild appetite, compensated by periods of wild activity to burn all the energy off. However, since undertaking her current lifestyle, she rarely went out to eat. She knew that there were plenty of places that she would be welcomed; the girls at work were gracious enough to invite her with them every so often. But she always declined. The world they lived in was never appealing to her; all the others in the club embraced this destiny they chose. Usagi felt trapped, suffocated by this life. Being out like this was a breathe of fresh air.   
  
She glanced down at her hands that were now fidgeting wildly once the waiter had left. Mamoru was setting his paper aside, and Usagi chewed on the side of her mouth nervously. She wasn't good at small talk, but she couldn't imagine what other kind of conversation might take place. But she hated having to chatter aimlessly; she did it often, but it was never by choice. She always thought she had to fill the silent void she often felt confined by whenever she was in situation, which, in truth, wasn't that often.   
  
Mamoru was staring intently at her, maybe expecting her to say something. She grew uncomfortable and anxious to break the force he had over her.   
  
"This is a nice place." She said cheerfully, pulling away from his gaze and taking in the décor around her. His shoulders sagged a bit, but he nodded in agreement.   
  
"It's a lot quieter than the places I usually wind up in." He gave a wry smile as punctuation, and she could tell he wanted to expound on that, but held back. "I come here every once and while just to wallow in the sound of silence." She smiled easily, glad to have the heat off of her for once. Before he had a chance to move the conversation back onto her, she probed a bit more.   
  
"You're more accustomed to noise?"   
  
"I'm staying in a youth hostel with a handful of rowdy college guys." He raised a suggestive eyebrow and rolled his eyes. She erupted with a round of giggles that caused an immediate smile to appear on his lips. He hadn't heard that come from her before; he decided she needed to do it, and often. And when he was around to hear it. "I'm sure you can imagine just how loud that building can get sometimes."   
  
"Oh, I don't need to imagine. About this time of year we always have rush from the University at the club...." She trailed off, immediately cursing herself for mentioning work again. His smile dropped like a stone and another intent look replaced it. She flushed hotly, knowing that she had just moved the conversation into dangerous territory.   
  
"I'm sorry." He said. She exhaled and looked down, wondering when he would begin to chastise her again. She opened her mouth, but he forged ahead with his thought. "I don't like any of the guys I room with. They treat me like an outsider because I don't engage in their activities. But I take for granted the respect they automatically have for me just because I'm a man." His gaze softened, and it looked to Usagi like even he was affected by this frightening subject matter. "I don't even want to know how they act with you...."   
  
The way he said "you" sounded so personal and it made Usagi's skin tremble. He wasn't talking about the girls at the club in general. She knew instinctively that he meant her and her alone. Something about it made her say things she knew she would regret....  
  
"It's not so bad." She laughed, knowing how hollow and fake it sounded, even to her own ears. "Every body has bad days at their job, you know?" She picked at her napkin without looking at him. She wasn't sure she could take the look he must be giving her. "I mean, I think most of the frat boys treat us no worse than they treat the sorority girls they pick up on a regular basis back home. The only difference is they buy those girls with drinks and cheesy pick up lines." She laughed at herself, realizing that he hadn't joined in. "It's probably a relief to just lay down a couple hundred bucks without saying a word."   
  
Mamoru's heart was simultaneously constricting and pounding as he listened to her go on about her job as if it were just another career choice. Discussing the pros and cons.... It made him sick. He could tell, as she prattled on aimlessly though, that there was something deeper, a niggling in her expression, in the way her brow was knitted together, that she disliked it even more than he did. He wondered if it made her nauseous every time she had to go back to that club, if she laid awake at night thinking about how queasy this lifestyle made her.   
  
"But they use you." He stopped her with that. She finally looked at him, and they both realized at the same time that her eyes were brimming with tears. She laughed as a couple fell silently to the table cloth.   
  
"That's what I'm here for." The reply was wooden, and Mamoru wondered if it was said more to convince her, than him. He pictured her telling herself that after each man threw the bills on the nightstand.   
  
"Your purpose in life is not to please every random guy who has a hundred bucks to blow." His voice rose with an anger directed towards the whole system, at every guy who thought of Usagi that way. "It's sick. It's sick and it's wrong that there are men that think that. And what's worse, that they've got you believing it."   
  
"How do you know it's not true?" Usagi was becoming just as upset, but she couldn't seem to muster the rage and fury that the opposition managed. He glowered at her, and she knew that the honest question wasn't going to be answered. She rambled without thinking. "How do you know that God didn't put me on this earth for that purpose?" She could see those hazy, drunken eyes, the ones that frequented her fathers worn, leathery face with more consistency before he finally threw her onto the streets. Each time his knuckles connected with her jaw, his palm with her cheek she felt worthless; but here, now, she had a purpose.   
  
"Do...do you honestly believe that?" He asked incredulously. His eyes were searching, as if he truly didn't know the answer. Usagi stared, trying to read his expression, trying to measure his words and find the hidden meaning behind them. There had to be one; she knew how to respond to all the tricks, all the lies. But as she frantically sought his exterior, she couldn't crack the shell. She blinked, knowing that she had to respond, but unable to figure out how. What could she say? She'd never met such honesty before, and she was at a loss.  
  
"I...I don't know." She stumbled. "But I can't explain my life without it."  
  
"Let me have a try."  
  
She looked up, and he was sitting back easily. He shrugged, as if he was prepared for anything she could throw at him.   
  
"Excuse me?" She bluffed, hoping to keep him at bay, long enough for her to change the subject.   
  
"I've taken a couple Psych classes." He winked playfully, and she could tell he was blatantly trying to put her at ease with such playfulness. She grudgingly admitted it was working. "I'm an expert. Tell me your life story, and I'll give you my analysis."  
  
For the moment, Usagi wondered why she hadn't bolted from the scene already. Not even one of her co-workers knew how she wound up working at the club; in fact, she couldn't think of one person outside of her estranged father, that knew about the life she had fled from. It was a closely guarded secret that had a wall around it that was impossible to climb. Many had tried, but had always given up. So why was she so close to giving him to key to gate? He wasn't even prying it out of her; she could feel the words form in her mouth, and it wasn't until the floodgates had opened that she realized she was willingly giving it up.   
  
"My father kicked me out when I was 14, after a long history of using me as his personal punching bag. I eventually traded that for the safe, comforting life on the streets. After 2 rape attempts, I gave in, found a club that was hiring, lied about my age and voila." Usagi bit back bitter tears of remembrance. "If I'm willing, then it's a not a violation. And if they're charged for the process, then really, I'm the winner in the end."  
  
Even as Mamoru tried to mask his shock and disgust, she had to hold back. She'd tempered her words; but she could have expounded more, and even felt herself desiring to. But she had already opened the door more than she'd wanted to; more than she ever had before. He had all the ammo he needed not only to bury her, but also humiliate her in the process. She prayed, to whom she wasn't sure, that he would digest the information privately. She imagined him walking away for good and, despite the pain of regret and the sense of a loss deeper than she could have ever predicted, she reasoned that now she could back to living her normal life. Old wounds had been opened since she'd met Mamoru, and even worse, new ones seemed to be appearing all the time as well. If anything were to make this, or any, man back off, Usagi was sure this was it.   
  
"I still don't see why you think this justifies your low standards in life."  
  
"What?" Usagi gaped. Did he not just hear her?   
  
"What kind man was your father?" He jumped ahead with another question. She blinked, feeling as if she was trying to walk up a steep, slick mountain, while rain fell all around her. She scrambled to stay ahead of Mamoru; tried to keep herself one step in front. But she slipped further and further backwards, she was struggling to stay at pace with the conversation.   
  
"He...He was horrible." She stuttered simply, not finding any words with enough force to convey her feelings towards her father.   
  
"Did you trust him?"   
  
"What?" She repeated. Now she wasn't even at pace with Mamoru. He had lost her completely.   
  
"Did you trust him? Was he trustworthy person?" He repeated, and Usagi almost laughed. He knew the answer to that! How could a man who beats anyone, let alone his own daughter, be in the least bit trustworthy?  
  
"Of course not." She spat.   
  
"Then why are you letting his beliefs about you shape your own?"   
  
To Usagi, the world might have just as well stopped spinning. Her mouth now hung open, and it was as if someone had flicked the 'off' switch inside her mind. She stared, unseeingly, straight at Mamoru for an eternity before he crossed his arms over his chest, indicating an end to the argument. He knew that she couldn't respond; he had beaten her. And so easily at that.   
  
"Are you OK?" He asked, a little puzzled over her lack of reaction. He wasn't sure what exactly he had expected, but she seemed paralyzed. The breech of silence caused a well to open up, and tears cascaded down her cheeks. Mamoru felt his body jump in response, and he leaned in close, pulling her shoulders towards him. His heart was pounding his rib cage painfully now. He chastised himself for being so flippant with her; he'd acted like it was a game. This was her life, her feelings; how could he have been so careless?   
  
"What right do you have?" She murmured, now fully mobile and whipping her eyes furiously, taking out her hatred and anger on them. "Who said you had the privilege of...of...." A sob cut her off, and she struggled to hold it down. He had pulled her close by now, in an obvious gesture that probably didn't go unnoticed by other patrons of the café.   
  
"Of what? Confronting you with reality?" He said in more gentle, hushed tones. The compassion in his voice made her even more enraged, and she pushed him roughly away.   
  
"Who the hell are you to tell me what reality is?" She growled through clenched teeth. Acting on her 'flight' impulse, one that she was well acquainted with, Usagi grabbed her purse and stood up. "You came into the club just like every other self concerned frat boy who visits that God-forsaken part of town. You're no different, and you'll never convince me otherwise."   
  
With tears blocking her vision, Usagi stumbled from the table to the exit, fast as she could manage as her whole psyche caved in on her. She wasn't sure where she was going; she couldn't remember which way her apartment was or even where the club was located. She walked barely a block before partially collapsing into a tree finally, and letting the sobs overwhelm her hollow shape. It hadn't even occurred to her that Mamoru might follow, but before she could tell what was happening, his now familiar embrace wrapped warmly around her. She didn't turn around, but she could smell him and she hated herself for melting into the scent. It had become a thing of unspeakable comfort; he was winning her trust, and she was fighting it as hard as she ever had with anyone, but it was apparent that it was battle she was losing.   
  
"I'm sorry." He murmured, his breath tickling her ear as he spoke, his mouth close to her head. She covered her face, muffling her own cries of fear and confusion. What was coming over her? Why did it turn her resolve into puddles with such little effort? And why couldn't she get a handle on it before it turned everything in her safe little world upside down?   
  
"I'm sorry for everything - For your father, for all the boys that come into the club. I'm sorry your life has been a living hell." He exhaled before adding softly, "And I'm sorry for only adding to your problems."   
  
A fresh flood of tears tripped their way down her features. These were filled with remorse and guilt for making Mamoru apologize. He had done nothing wrong, and Usagi had to admit it now. She'd caused all this herself; once again, there was no one else to blame but her own jilted self-image.   
  
"I kept telling myself that I was doing this for you; that I was going to be your knight in shining armor, but I ignored the whisperings of my ego. A part of me was looking for glory. The inflated feeling that I expected to come when I solved all your troubles and proved what a superior person I was." He confessed haltingly, as if some of this was a revelation, even to him. Usagi was so taken aback that she forgot her own cries of agony and just listened. His hold tightened around her and she inhaled sharply as he buried his face in the nape of her neck. His pain and remorse was evident through their connection; one that Usagi had to acknowledge as more than just physical at that point. Her lips trembled at the honest, innocent light that began to ignite inside her. She was opening herself - mind & body, heart & soul - to something that she knew she needed. She hadn't known she needed it until it was right in front of her. She'd never even experienced it, but she knew that she couldn't turn her back on it now. It had its foot in the door, and the only option was to open it wide.   
  
"I'm so sorry, and I can only ask you to forgive me for it all."   
  
"Mamoru...." She began, unsure of how she could continue. She couldn't forgive him, because he had done nothing wrong. Her heart pounded, and words formed on her lips before she had a chance to think them over. "I...."  
In an instant, those sturdy arms had grabbed her fiercely by the shoulders and spun her around so that she was finally facing him. Her breath caught in her throat as all pain and anguish she'd heard in his voice was personified in his expression. Her response had become lodged in her throat and she pursed her lips shut, feeling like any words at this point would be inadequate.   
  
"Please tell me you forgive me."   
  
Any resistance on her side had long since retreated, but before she could voice the sentiment verbally, her eyes cast the vote for her. In a mere moment, Mamoru easily pulled her closer, lifting her lithe frame upwards. In one breath their lips met, in an action that was nothing short of ecstasy. Usagi had seen everything about this man as strong and unyielding; and yet his kiss was tender, and gentle as his mouth cradled her own with slow movements. He'd been so rough with his words and now such a stark contrast that Usagi was lost inside the contradiction. He tasted like milk and honey - like the Promised Land.   
  
She hadn't been aware of her bodies' natural reaction, but when the pulsating heartbeat receded from inside her head, she had to pull her arms from a tangled mess around his neck. Despite her newfound confidence, shyness took over and she withdrew slightly. But nothing could keep the tiny, growing smile from creeping onto her face. And apparently, she wasn't hiding it from Mamoru well, either. A small, throaty chuckle emerged from his chest, and Usagi shivered as she could feel it erupt from inside him before she ever heard it.   
  
"Does this mean you accept my apology?" He asked, the previous wounds gone from his speech.   
  
"You didn't have to apologize, Mamoru. I've been such a brat, and I've been trying so hard to keep you away. I'm the one who needs to ask your forgiveness." Usagi said, angered that sobs were all too ready to spring up at the mention of her guilt. She sniffled, and his form softened once again as he simultaneously held her face and tenderly brushed away a tear with his thumb.   
  
"It's already been forgotten."   
  
Usagi collapsed fully into his arms now and he just held her, rocking her still form gently as she cried. Her body felt was emptied of all my fear and anger and bitterness. They were purged from inside -- with his help. After minutes of unbridled weeping, it began to gradually fall away into gasps and sighs. Mamoru used his sleeve to brush away any remnants from her face and then kissed her eyes open. Finally, she looked at him, blinked and realized that it was the first time she'd ever been truly awake.  
  
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*clutches her own Mamo-clone and sighs*   
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWW!  
  
DON'T GET TOO COMFY!   
  
I'm not done with you yet! *Ropa jumps up, throws head back and cackled maniacally, tossing Mamoru roughly aside in the process*  
  
MWUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!   
  
I ain't the Queen O' Angst for nothing!  
  
FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDBACCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!   
  
ropachan@cox.net  
  
cielenvoye@yahoo.com  
  
http://www.geocities.com/sailorananke 


	5. Rouge' Chapter VI

I keep saying I'm done with fanfiction, but I've decided that I want to finish my stories first - especially this one. I don't know why, but I really love this piece. Can't stand "Need Me". I have no desire to even work on that steamy piece of poo. I dunno though, something about this story keeps drawing me BACK in.. Grrr. Stupid emotional attachments. ^^ Of course, there's something about falling in love yourself that makes sappy romances and stupid pop songs make a whole lot more sense. So maybe I should thank Jeff for making me relate to so much more now.  
  
Yeah, thanks a lot! Now I can't just retire from fandom like I had planned on!  
  
/melodramatic rant  
  
I honestly do plan on finishing this story, along with the dreaded "Need Me", "Love Through Time" (that'll take a miracle), and "Teachers Pet".  
  
"."  
  
I DO plan on it! I swear!  
  
*random snickers from the three hecklers that have stuck around for the decline of 'ropa's FF career, from "sad" to "pathetically non-existent"*  
  
Anyway, this is chapter six, and I'm getting to the parts that I had planned for the ending, so if you put 2 & 2 together, you'd realize that means that the end is nigh! Huzzah! I don't know how "nigh", but well, it's getting there. And that's a load off my mind. Best case scenario would be finishing these before school starts at the end of August, but I have a Bridal Shower to plan for my best friend, a wedding to attend, a 21st birthday to celebrate (*ahem* MINE!), Summer Wake 2003 to prepare for and a trip to Vegas to try to slam together. So, we'll see, now won't we? Now shoo! Go read before I bore you to tears!  
  
DISCLAIMER :: Sailor Moon blah blah blah Tuxie blah blah blah blah no money blah blah blah Naoko Takeuchi blah Taoi blah blah blah..  
  
slr_europa@yahoo.com  
  
cielenvoye@yahoo.com  
  
*********************************** Rouge Chapter VI  
  
By Sailor Europa  
  
Mamoru tapped his pencil absently, garnering some agitated looks from his peers around him. He glanced back at the clock again. 5 minutes left. He hated Philosophy. He didn't understand a thing about this way of looking at the world. He had always been very cut and dry - no in betweens.  
"Your papers will be returned the next time we meet. I've been relatively pleased with each one, thus far. Keep up the good work."  
Heaving a great sigh of relief, Mamoru picked up his textbook and shoved his pencil behind his ear and made it to the exit before anyone else was even able to leave their seat. He was a model pupil, normally - he liked school. But today he had something he wanted to do.  
It took him only a few minutes to jog over to the English building from his previous class. Just as he was huffing over the slight nip in the air, sucking in breathes, he spotted the dusty blonde head of his friend, bobbing above most of the other departing college students. He picked up his pace again, shifting the weight of his books to the other arm in the process.  
"Andrew!"  
The other man turned immediately and gave the customary head bob of acknowledgement as he paused, turning to face the approaching Mamoru.  
"Hey Chiba, what's up?" He prodded warmly, slapping his friend on the shoulder as he pulled in. "Cold enough for ya'?  
"No, I prefer my fingers falling off, actually." Mamoru joked, although feeling as though it was slightly forced. He sobered up within a few seconds, and hesitated on how to begin this conversation.  
"What's going on? You feel like grabbing some lunch?" Andrew suggested, beginning his gait again, toward the busy college intersection. Mamoru nodded. That would be a good setting; at least they'd have time to discuss it. Of course, if Andrew didn't like the idea, things could get uncomfortable awfully quick.  
"Yeah, actually, I wanted to talk to you about something." Mamoru said seriously, and Andrew nodded, not looking a bit surprised.  
"What? You mean you didn't miss me?" Andrew gasped in mock surprise. Mamoru rolled his eyes. "You're such a heart-breaker, Chiba Mamoru.."  
"Oh, shove it, Andy." Mamoru chuckled and shoved the blonde. "If I pay for lunch, will you be serious enough to be honest for once in your life?"  
"You're gonna pay? How generous. Especially knowing how hard up I am for money." He replied and Mamoru snorted a laugh. It was no secret how well off the American was, especially compared to most of the exchange students they were surrounded by. Andrew was constantly being accosted by sob stories from Mamoru's roomies, hoping for a hand out. And Andrew usually gave in. Mamoru had to give that to him - he wasn't the snob most wealthy people were.  
But by offering to pay, Andrew understood immediately how dire Mamoru was in need of advice. He glanced at his companion in his periphery as they strolled casually to the diner not too far off campus. It wasn't expensive, but it was fairly deserted until classes ended for the day. Most students frequented quicker joints in between lessons.  
Mamoru was definitely distracted, but Andrew couldn't help noticing that he wasn't distressed like he had been the last time they talked. Whatever it was, Mamoru was happier, albeit a bit sidetracked.  
They went immediately to a booth in the back, and Mamoru stared absently at the menu on the table before clutching his hands in his lap anxiously. Andrew looked up.  
"OK, spill it."  
"I kissed her."  
"Excuse me?" Andrew blinked. The words soaked in, and he wondered just exactly what the three of them meant. He had a few ideas, but Mamoru would explain himself if Andrew had to drag it out of him.  
"I kissed her."  
"OK. Is that all you wanted to tell me? Are you bragging?"  
"No!" Mamoru gasped, visibly disgusted at the idea.  
"Well then, what exactly do you want me to say? Congratulations?"  
"I want.. I dunno. I want you to tell me I'm not a complete jack ass and that it wasn't the worst thing I could have done."  
"The worst thing? No, it's not the worst thing. You could strip down to your skivvies and jump into the lap pool right now - that'd be pretty bad. You could moon Dr. Burnette during the next Psych lecture - that'd rank right up there." He chided, and Mamoru clenched his jaw at Andrew's sarcastic tone. "So no, it wasn't the worst thing. But I'll be honest, I really think you made a big mistake."  
"Why? What did I do that was so horrible?" Mamoru spoke in hushed tones, but Andrew could tell that he wanted to bellow it out from his lungs. "Is it because of what she happens to do -."  
"Chiba, you're leaving in three months! What's going to happen then?"  
Mamoru was silent. He had thought of that, but he'd pushed it away every time the inkling snuck into his mind. He was playing with explosives here - and in a few weeks, he knew they were going to go off. He couldn't stop it.  
"Does she realize that you aren't here for good? Have you told her that?" Andrew barked under his breath, irritated that his friend wasn't using the intelligence he knew he had. "You are getting emotionally involved in a situation that you have no ultimate control over. And worse, you know it has to end at some point! From what little you've told me, the girl needs help; maybe even professional help. She'd be better off with a therapist than a date." He sighed, shaking his head before continuing.  
"Look, Mamoru, I think it's admirable that you're trying to help her. And I could tell before this incident ever happened, that you had deeper feelings for this girl than you were willing to admit. But you have got to be realistic here. You're offering a temporary solution - and it has the potential of doing more harm than good in the long run.  
"You want her to be stable, right? You want to see her turn her life around. This isn't going to do that, no matter how good it feels." Andrew paused, gauging his friends' emotions at this point before continuing.  
"Bottom line - taking this step was selfish. You can go home at the end of the semester and you can say you had a fling." Mamoru's eyes flashed as his head snapped to attention at the last word. Andrew held up his hand. "But this girl is going to feel empty. And given enough time, she could even feel used."  
Mamoru let the words sink in and he put his forehead in his hands and sighed. He knew his friend was right; at least technically. But he couldn't explain that it felt like the right thing to do. Things were volatile right now, that was for sure, but Mamoru had to believe that it WOULD work out in the end. If he had indeed done the right thing, he had to trust his instincts; listen to his gut. And both his gut and his instincts said he was on the right track. But he knew that an explanation like that wouldn't likely appease his friend.  
"I'm sorry, man, but you wanted me to be honest." Andrew said after the long pause and Mamoru nodded, still not able to look him in the eyes. He stared now at the blustery day outside the window to his left and squinted, not sure what he was looking for. The answer, he assumed.  
"I can't take it back now, though." Mamoru finally said, a twinge of regret in his voice. Andrew was frank as he weighed the situation in his mind.  
"Yeah, I know." He paused as a thought came to mind. "Does that mean you want to?"  
"No." Mamoru replied simply. It pained Andrew to hear the emotion behind that simple word, and he really did hate to see such a good friend go through such an emotional roller coaster. He thought of Mamoru very highly; he'd admired his integrity, and even though he'd mocked his anxiety over his "incidents" at the Wall, Andrew could tell from the way Mamoru fretted that he was a man of high moral character and someone who took his values very seriously. So it was a real shock to see him make such a huge mistake, at least in Andrew's book. Mamoru, in his mind, should know better.  
"So what are you going to do?" He asked, simply.  
"I can't just end it. Not now." Mamoru stated resolutely, and Andrew sighed.  
"You're playing with fire here, Chiba."  
"I'm not playing at all." Mamoru bit out violently, fists clutched angrily so that his knuckles turned white under the pressure. Andrew's eyes widened in fear. Not for himself, but for Mamoru. He hadn't been able to put his finger on what seemed amiss with his companion earlier, but only one thing could make a man react this strongly, and it hit him suddenly now, as clear as day.  
"You're in love with her."  
Mamoru's hands unclenched and his shoulders began to sag in defeat. Andrew suspected that he hadn't been able to admit it to himself, but now that it was on the table, he wasn't about to deny it.  
"Man, Mamoru, you sure know how to complicate a simple trip abroad." Andrew chided, resulting in a half grin from the solemn man across from him.  
"I don't know how this happened. I really don't." Mamoru said finally, shaking his head. Andrew shrugged.  
"You never do. Fate usually has a hand in it, though."  
"You are completely right though. I'm in way over my head, and now.." He sighed and leaned back. "I couldn't get out, even if I wanted to."  
"When did it go from wanting to help her to falling this hard?" Andrew inquired honestly. He, himself, had a fiancé waiting for him back home, but it had taken years to love and trust her as much as he did. In the amount of time it had taken Mamoru to meet, court and fall in love with this girl, Andrew would still have been trying to muster up the courage to ask for a third date.  
"I don't know. It was this compulsive need to save her from her horrible life to begin with, and then. I dunno. That eventually became just an excuse to see her. I just." He trailed off, shaking his head in amazement. "I still want to help her, but for very different reasons."  
"Yeah, sounds like it." Andrew mused.  
"I still have to talk to her about all this though. I mean, she knows that I'm only around for a limited time, but.." Again, his words failed him and he closed his eyes, feeling the breakdown already. "There are so many things that are going to make it unbearable to leave at the end of the semester."  
"Well, I think that's starting out right, though. If you both understand the gravity of the situation from the get-go, you still have a few months to figure out what to do when the time comes." Andrew stated rationally. "As long as you guys are realistic about it all."  
"I guess." Mamoru mumbled reluctantly. "I've really gotten myself into a mess here, haven't I?" He asked, looking his friend in the eyes for the first time since they sat down.  
"Yeah, but love has never been easy. You're not the exception, my friend."  
"Wonderful. That makes me feel so much better."  
"Misery loves company, Chiba. And you've got a lot."  
  
*****  
  
"Hey, Chiba! Where you been?" Nicholas chided, slapping the brunette roughly on the back within moments of his entrance into the hostel. "We're just about to hit the club. You feel like chasing some skirts with us?" Mamoru could hardly hide the scowl he felt prompted to offer in reply. Instead, he just shook his head and removed the scarf from his neck and trotted up the stairs without a word. In his male pride he was satisfied that they thought enough to invite him, but the rest of his common sense just cringed. He was glad though, that Nicholas didn't traipse after him in effort to coerce him into relenting. He'd, thankfully, given up that hobby within a few weeks of Mamoru's arrival.  
Opening the door to his shared room, he exhaled loudly, content to be away from the crowd of testosterone that surrounded him elsewhere in the pad. He'd been whittling away the hours in the park, trying hard not to think too much about his predicament, with little success. He knew that she'd be at work late into the night - it was a Friday, and she'd offered the information that "they turned enough money to buy and sell the property several times over" most Fridays. The thought turned his stomach and as he dragged his feet heavily along the sidewalks, he could hardly stop the disgusting images from entering his head. He'd never liked the idea of her being subject to the regular perverts that must come around, but now he was absolutely petrified for her. Call it possessive, but was having serious issues with "sharing" her with every Joe that happened to have 100 lying around.  
When it had grown dark he wasn't sure he could trust his feet not to walk straight to the club, so he made his way back to the hostel with a heavy heart. He wanted to believe that there was a chance she might be spared tonight, be it from illness or an attack of her conscience, but he knew deep down that it wasn't likely. When the muffled sounds coming from the apes downstairs finally disappeared with the slam of the front door, he could feel the last of his tensions dissipate. He flopped lazily down on his bed, exhausted from his tortured thoughts, and closed his eyes. Sleep was impossible at that point, though - no matter how tired he was, he wouldn't be able to rest until he was sure she was no longer working. He'd even had to fight urges to meet her at 2 a.m., when she was officially "done", but knew she would never allow it. He wasn't positive, but he could imagine that there were rules about having personal relationships with clients. In this business, just being involved with someone romantically could endanger a profit. And Usagi, Mamoru mused masochistically, must turn quite a pretty profit.  
He groaned at that thought and turned on his side, glaring at the glowing digits on the clock. Only 9 P.M. He covered his face with his hands and sighed in agony.  
It was going to be a long night.  
  
*****  
  
"Hey."  
"Hey yourself."  
It was early, yet somewhat reluctantly, that Mamoru hauled his aching bones downstairs for breakfast. Despite it being a Saturday, half the occupants of the hostel were horsing around like they'd been up for hours. Mamoru glared at the crowded table in the kitchen and eagerly opted for a few pieces of toast on his way out. There was no way he could stomach the stories they'd all be waiting to expound upon. And since he nearly always stayed home rather than run with them each Friday, it was usually his ear that they wanted to bend. He was sure most of the crap they bragged about was embellished, if not an outright lie. But that didn't mean he wanted to hear about it. It still made him nauseous.  
"Chiba! You're just in time! Wanna hear about the blonde I sacked?"  
He was glad he had his back turned, because he was pretty sure he would have retched had he seen what he imagined was a glowing expression. Stifling a snarl beneath an indifferent tone, Mamoru tried to reply as nicely as possible.  
"Have I ever wanted to?"  
"You're just jealous."  
The comment was meant as a joke, but it was all Mamoru could do to squelch the rage that was beginning to peak from his usual cool exterior. He couldn't tell if it was because of his clandestine activities or what, but he was finding it harder and harder to tolerate the Neanderthals he had to live with this semester. Was the rest of the male population this brain dead? How had he missed it all these years? And what gene was he missing that made him such a polar opposite?  
The group began to ignore him as soon as he had voiced his distaste, and he drowned out the din of their conversation behind him as he stuffed a piece of toasted bread into his mouth and swallowed. He quickly downed a glass of juice and was out the door without so much as a glance backwards.  
  
*****  
  
"I missed you."  
It was all Mamoru could do to even say those words. Usagi, looking somehow even more innocent and pure under pancake make-up and dark eyeliner, blushed.  
"This is the only thing that got me through last night." She sighed, nestling her forehead into the crook of his neck. He had to catch his breath and exhale slowly, despite how quickly he seemed to breath whenever she was this near. They'd never really agreed that he would keep coming to the club just to see her, paying the money just to spend an hour talking. But she knew that as long as she was employed in this manner, and as long as he felt this way about her (and she still wasn't sure she believed that latter part would last), he would find a way to buy an hour of her time, whenever he could. She tried not to think about it, because when she thought of all the money he'd already spent, she was wracked with guilt. At one hundred per hour. well, that was a small fortune, and Mamoru was nothing but a college student. Her forehead wrinkled involuntarily; she sure was an expensive date.  
"How're you doing?" He whispered tenderly. With no hint of lust or innuendo in his voice, she still shivered. Lust and desire were commonplace in all honesty, while genuine concern and compassion were nothing short of provocative. Usagi was used to feeling her body awaken under a soft caress from skillful fingers, but the sensation of her heart blossoming under the gentle guidance of another was, in her mind, new and much more exciting.  
"I'm OK."  
He could sense he reluctance to talk about work, so he pulled back, leaving his arms around her waist and taking a good, long look at her. Despite the dark red that stained her cheeks while he drank her in, he couldn't ignore the smile that decorated her face in a way that cosmetics never could. He couldn't stop his own grin from replying to hers, knowing no words would suffice.  
"Your hair is down."  
"Hm?"  
He ran a hand through the insanely long locks that normally were wrapped up in twin buns on either side of her head. She ducked her head and nodded.  
"I wanted to try something new." She said shyly. He tugged playfully on a fistful and she yelped. Her lower lip protruded and she scowled in mock disdain.  
"I like it." He pulled her close again and planted a kiss on her forehead. "But I think I'd like you even if you shaved it all off." She giggled.  
"You say that now.."  
"Well, I say that, secretly hoping that you don't." He chuckled. She leaned into him once again, drinking in his scent. It was wonderful. He didn't smell like most men that came through the club's doors. Most bathed in cologne it seemed. But Mamoru had such a distinct aroma; it was like soap and linen. He smelled clean and pure; unpolluted. Inhaling the familiar odor of Mamoru after living in such a contaminated hellhole was like breathing fresh air after a life of smoking. She felt clean just by association.  
For a few moments he just held her, and Usagi just drowned in him, completely unaware of anything else. She'd never understood emotions before now, she realized. For so long, 'love' was a physical reaction - it was nothing more than stimulation coming from an outside supply. Her body automatically reacted to being touched. It had felt good; she couldn't deny that. But now it was her core that seemed to stir; her soul was reacting and relating; yearning to touch and be touched. The stimulation of intercourse was piercing and short-lived; it ebbed moments after reaching fever pitch. But this. whatever this was she was going through, was running her ragged. Every time she thought she couldn't feel anymore, just when she believed that she'd experienced the peak of this emotion, it would be surpassed and she'd have to catch her breath before she went on. She was crawling on her hands and knees at this point; it was exhausting! But she had no choice but to go on; she couldn't imagine giving up now and being satisfied. If there was more (and she was sure there was), she wanted in on it.  
The progression was growing so natural that Usagi didn't even notice that Mamoru's gentle stroke had grown eager and more intense. The familiar sensation of her body awakening to answer the call of another's seemed to take over. She looked up into dark eyes that stirred with a hunger akin to what she recognized inside her own mind. The scene was reminiscent of what had played out a few weeks before. She remembered it all so well, but she couldn't even imagine it feeling this good. She was satisfied to a point, and yet they hadn't even kissed since he walked through that door tonight. She was heavy from the amazement of feeling so much before hardly anything had taken place.  
No words were exchanged as a slow and methodical procession of kisses were draped down her nose, lips, chin... Mamoru paused, taking a shaky breath as his lips hovered over her neck. The explosion of warm air as he exhaled slowly caused her to catch her own breath, and she shivered. She wasn't even thinking about where this path was taking her; she wasn't looking towards the goal like she normally would. She had never imagined that each step could be just as exhilarating as the destination.  
Without thinking, Mamoru pressed his anxious mouth to the smooth, unblemished skin of her neck, knowing that he was diving into waters that he'd dared not tread before. The escalation was almost unstoppable now; he'd crossed a line and let himself set into motion a chain of events that he knew he likely wouldn't be able to forget about until it was allowed to reach completion. And what was more important was that he wanted nothing more than to see it through. His animal instincts were taking over, and he wondered if he could trust them. The last thing he wanted was for Usagi to find any kind of parallel between him and the other men who came into her chambers.  
He cast his fears aside, pressing them into a locked corner of his mind, as she mindlessly wove her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. He pushed a hand behind her throat, urging her head back, making the flesh more accessible to his hungry lips. He felt ravenous; a malnourished bum who'd been offered a banquet. She closed her eyes slowly, completely lost in it all. It wasn't just her body he had taken over; he now possessed her, heart and soul.  
Unable to think about anything else, he pulled away, arms aching to be free. The sheer lace camisole she was wearing drove him to insanity and with deft fingers driven only by desire he freed each button, exposing thin arms and a body encased only by a thin silk tank. He pulled her close again, the inches between their two bodies making him crazy. He placed a flat hand to the small of her back, drawing her into a kiss that was nothing short of breathtaking, breaking away only long enough to give equal attention to the flesh on the opposite side of neck. Her eyes never stirred; she couldn't help thinking that she didn't need to see him with her eyes. His touch was much more poignant.  
Mamoru could hardly stand it a second longer and within a moment he was sinking against the mattress, still drinking her in greedily, his mind completely on autopilot. The crook of her neck, between her shoulder and throat, beckoned him and he let his mouth travel downwards. His eyes drifted shut, and he let his other senses take over. He let the pressure intensify, and he cradled her head gently, coaxing her closer. His lips forced themselves deeper into the skin, and he could feel her body reflexively react with a shudder. He continued in the same manner, barely letting a similar reaction on her part register in his brain. His body was so driven towards the goal that it wasn't until that she shuddered violently a third time that an alarm finally registered in his skull. Not able to completely let the desire recede, he pulled away, his lips reluctantly leaving the exposed flesh of her lower throat. She lay beneath him on the mattress, light barely able to reach the spot that seemed to sensitive, but there was enough for a discoloration on the soft tissue to be apparent. Usagi was so caught up in the intensity of the setting that she didn't notice the abrupt change in mood until he was a good foot above her, cradling her neck in his massive hand. Her eyes flew open, disposition dropping like a stone in the ocean. He studied her neck intensely, and she could feel the blood drop from her face. He pulled her to a sitting position next to him, and drew her hair to other side, the pale light from the bedside lamp hitting the discolored bruising full on. "What the hell happened, Usagi?" He bit out, his voice a mixture of pain and anger. He let his hand drop silently to the bed, almost as if he was afraid he too might inflict such damage on her delicate skin. The flurry of emotion that had just a few moments ago raged inside his eyes was replaced by concern and hurt. "Rough night last night." She said meekly, pulling her hands around her exposed arms. She shivered, suddenly feeling naked and vulnerable, despite still being fully clothed. Mamoru's gaze hardened in shock. "You mean one of your clients did this to you?!"  
Usagi couldn't manage words, but she bit her lips and looked down, and that was enough of a response for him. He inhaled silently and climbed off the bed, suddenly finding himself unable to sit still. He paced, wiping his hands over his face anxiously. He couldn't think of a thing to say; the disgust he felt was overwhelming and defied explanation. Unlike his previous similar experience though, the revulsion wasn't directed at himself - it was at the situation in general. And despite how the circumstances that surrounded Usagi affected him, and not in a positive way, he knew that the desire to be with her was stronger than ever. It had grown from a need to protect to into affection and just recently into an uncontrollable attraction that included a potent combination of the previous two. He loved her. The longing to be with her was only natural, and tonight was just a reminder of that. But he was finding that there were constant reminders that nagged him; made him rethink the road he was taking with her. He claimed to love her, and yet he was ready to jump into an area of their relationship that was incredibly sensitive and delicate without so much as even a second thought.  
"Mamoru?"  
"Hm?" His thoughts were broken, and he abruptly looked back at her, still sitting on the four-poster bed, holding herself tightly. Her cheeks reddened again and she shook her head.  
"Nothing. You just weren't saying anything." She inhaled suddenly, choking back fear and holding in tears. "I wondered if you were mad. at me."  
His shoulders sagged and he shook his head quickly, chastising himself for momentarily forgetting her. His eyes softened and he could see relief flood her expression. Mamoru mentally berated himself for making her worry about his reaction, realizing that she must have been comparing the nights events to that infamous night they met when his mood had shifted so violently that he'd left her on the floor of the room in tears. He couldn't even believe that only a few weeks prior. It seemed like a million and one nights ago.  
"It's not you, Usagi. I swear, I could never be angry at you." He moved to her side and sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked her cheek gently, all desire and hunger gone. Usagi marveled at how fulfilling a simple touch could be. "This is just another reminder of how much I despise the situation you put yourself in." His jaw tightened as a he fought of the rage that began to boil inside him. "The idea that some bastard.."  
"Mamoru."  
She trailed off, and Mamoru sighed dejectedly and shook his head. Nothing she could possibly say would ease the pain he was feeling, and deep down, she knew that.  
"My hour's up." He said abruptly, glancing at the clock. She bit her lip, fighting tears. He got back on his feet and stared at the door, mouth set in a tight line. Usagi watched him obliviously, wondering what he was thinking, fearing that he might be considering walking out and never coming back. She wasn't sure how she would handle that, if she even could. Mamoru hadn't been in her life more than a month and she was already depending on him way too much.  
He started towards the door, deep in thought, and Usagi scrambled off the mattress in tow. He paused just feet from the exit and stared at the knob. She stood silently before him, not sure what to say. She was overwhelmed by the anxiety that the thought of never seeing him again caused her, but she wasn't sure that begging would do any good. If she thought there was even a chance it might, she'd do it all night. But Mamoru wasn't likely to be swayed by crocodile tears.  
He exhaled loudly, and without thinking, Usagi launched herself into his arms, knocking him momentarily off balance. She refused to cry or sob, but it was a fight. She didn't want his pity; she wanted his love. And if he agreed to be with her because he couldn't stand to see her tears, it would never be the same. He had to want to stay.  
Mamoru's heart grew heavier as the seconds ticked on and the silence grew deafening. He knew that if he returned her embrace that he'd never be able to let go, but as she clung to him, not possessively but affectionately, his grip on her torso clenched. He needed her as much as she needed him.  
"Please don't go." She whispered, her tone devoid of desire or selfishness. The words were spoken from a need, and because of that her tone was calm. The need was obvious and she knew that the love they shared meant he had to fulfill it. If he loved her, he had no choice but to answer in the like.  
"Never."  
  
*****  
  
The night had been a roller coaster.  
An hour later, Mamoru closed the door to the room behind him. He'd stayed twice as long as normal, and even though the mood never changed from the moment before he almost departed, he was incredibly satisfied. He'd made the decision not to meet her at the club anymore, for fear of succumbing to the temptation of doing something he'd regret. His desire for Usagi was much more than physical attraction; he didn't want just sex. He wanted to make love to her, and in a way that made him burn up from the inside out. But that wasn't going to happen with the circumstances the way they were now. He wouldn't let it happen. It would upset the delicate balance that they needed to maintain their senses; if they let their animalistic lusts take over (as tempting as it was), they would lose all respect for the mutual love they shared at the deeper level. Soon the physical pleasures would take priority, and then their relationship would be nothing above what she received money for. He respected her, and he was determined to preserve that. As much as he desired her, his love was ten times stronger.  
He kept his head down and tried not to look anyone in the eyes as he trotted towards the front door. As soon as he was back in crisp, open Amsterdam air, he stopped in his tracks, knees momentarily weak. The real world assaulted him, and he closed his eyes, reluctant to go back to his barren room at the hostel, devoid of any emotion. If he had the money, he would have laid it all down to make sure his delicate Usagi was kept from harms way the rest of the night, but as it was Usagi had given him the extra 100 for the second hour. He hadn't expected that, but he was grateful. She said she felt bad, seeing him lay down a small fortune and not get anything in return. He hadn't said it, but he was sure he was getting something. Maybe nothing tangible, but it was worth more than all the money he had.  
Shaking his head and opening his eyes, and sucked in a breath, stepping away from the door and intending on heading back home before he heard the footsteps to his left.  
"Well well well, look what the cat dragged out.."  
He whirled around, the annoying British accent grating attacking his ears, just in time to see half a dozen college guys walk into Usagi's club, the ring leader none other than his roommate, Nicholas.  
"I hope you had a good time."  
  
*********************************** HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  
  
I just have to have that somewhere in my AN's. I don't even know why I do it anymore.  
  
Anyway, I hate the way this ended, but I needed some kind of cliffhanger, and I wasn't sure where else I could cut it off, so.. Oh well. It's done, and I'm happy. Lemme know what you think!  
  
ciel_envoye@yahoo.com  
  
slr_europa@yahoo.com 


	6. Rouge' Chapter VII

So I'm home from work with a migraine, and I thought "what better way to feel less like I'm wasting my day than to work on Rouge?" (wonders absently how grammatically incorrect that last sentence was.) And so, here I am! Totally winging it, and hoping that my brain is functioning well enough to make sense. Hope you all enjoy!  
  
cielenvoye@yahoo.com  
  
slr_europa@yahoo.com  
  
*********************** 'Rouge' Chapter VII  
  
It was all Mamoru could do to blink, let alone speak. For the moment he wasn't sure if his embarrassment or his pure, seething rage was more powerful. To be standing this close to such a useless lump of testosterone filled flesh, and to know exactly what condescending little thoughts must be dancing in his head was almost too much.  
"I see our little Mother Superior, Mamoru himself, has taken time to climb down from his high horse in order to get a little satisfaction."  
Mamoru wasn't sure how to reply - he was busy trying to figure out exactly what that look on Nicholas' face was. Smug? Cocky? Mamoru couldn't tell. Besides, his brain was occupied with attempting to not only cover his embarrassment - he'd made such a big deal about how degrading these clubs were, after all - but also with hoping to exit as quickly as possible, with as little commotion as possible. But it was plain to Mamoru almost immediately that the Englishman had been drinking already, and seeing as how he had no conscience or inhibitions while sober, he doubted things got better when he'd had a couple rounds under his belt.  
"Don't tell me you're leaving so soon, darling." Nicholas chortled, throwing an arm around Mamoru's neck and pulling him close. Mamoru gagged at the stench of liquor that radiated from the blonde - it was so thick he almost expected to see vapor waft from his mouth along with the words. "Let me buy you a go-round with the lady of your choice.  
"Just between us," he continued, attempting to wink and pulling the now visibly revolted Mamoru closer, "there is the cutest little blonde with the absolute best arse in this entire hell hole." He roared with laughter at some joke, still oblivious to the shock and awe on Mamoru's pale face, whom he'd now loosened his grip on. In his drunken stupor, Nicholas barreled on and slapped him on the back, knocking Mamoru off balance. He was hardly paying attention to the animals that had now gathered around him at this point.  
'Usako' his mind mumbled over and over again. Nicholas could only be talking about his Usako.  
"But you'll have to wait until I'm through with her if you want a piece of that, Mamoru, sweetheart." He was practically rolling on the ground in hysterics as he added. "That is, if she can even stand up afterwards."  
It took every shred of patience Mamoru had left in him not to slug the cocky bastard right in his Abercrombie & Fitch face. 'Hate' didn't accurately describe what he felt at that moment - revulsion was prominent before, but now it had moved beyond the nausea that just the sight of him caused. Hell seemed too kind for Nicholas - at this point, Mamoru wanted him to suffer, and he wanted to be there to watch.  
But Nicholas was not privy to the sadistic tortures Mamoru was concocting in his head, and was still high on the beer and Tequila he had consumed moments before, so he slung his arm around his neck and pulled a less-reluctant Mamoru through the doors once again. He'd grown accustomed to the club at this point, but would never really like it there. And now he liked it even less.  
Somehow, he had to find a way to keep Nicholas from finding Usagi. He prayed - as ludicrous and disgusting as it sounded, even to him - that she'd already found another Jon and was, for lack of a better term, "busy". Despite how sick to his stomach it made him, he knew she must be popular. For the same reason he had first been attracted to her, and for the same reason Nicholas was here - her innocence was more alluring and arousing than all the bare skin and pungent perfume in the world.  
He quickly scanned the small bar room, breathing a sigh of relief when he found her missing. His shoulders sagged a bit, and he shifted his prayers to those of haste. If Nicholas were as randy as he seemed, he wouldn't mind that his first choice wasn't around. Mamoru made a sudden movement to the left, and Nicholas's arm dropped to his side, now preoccupied with selecting his "product".  
"Guess I'll have to settle for something else, eh?" The Brit sighed reluctantly, although he was so busy eyeing a leggy redhead that he hardly seemed disappointed.  
The erratic thoughts were now slowing down considerably, and Mamoru sank wearily into an armchair, utterly exhausted. He watched the group of about half a dozen young men peruse the merchandise at their whim, and felt a new distaste for his gender. He fought back the accusing voice that called himself a hypocrite - he came not because he wanted to (although he did), but because he needed to. Sexual appetite, he learned a long time ago, was easy to fight off - it wasn't insatiable like the world wanted you to think.  
No, there were other thing that had a much stronger drive, urges that you couldn't fend off - at least, that's what he believed. He'd given in to them and not even bothered to try to fight them at this point, so he wasn't totally sure that it was impossible. He, however, was not making any plans to test that theory. Giving in, he decided, was much more fun.  
"Oh, the gods must be smiling on me tonight." Came the elated squeal of Nicholas. Mamoru's senses came to attention, and he craned his neck just in time to see his little blonde rabbit descending the stairs. She looked horrible - or maybe that's just what Mamoru saw on the inside. She'd just finished and he knew that her self-respect was drained. He ached for the innocent little girl that wanted so badly to be let out of this woman's life. She was good at what she did, but the pain that she carried deep inside was plain as day to Mamoru - he knew it all too well. It was something he'd had to fight off himself just a few short years ago.  
Like a hat, Nicholas dropped the tall redhead he'd been propositioning, and made a beeline for Usagi. She looked horrible, like she'd been through a hurricane and barely came out alive. But as soon as the apparently familiar blonde was within eyesight, her eyes widened in a fear that sent a tremor threw Mamoru's body. The reaction was plastered over by a fake smile though, and Mamoru could taste bile as she cooed and cuddled up close to the prospective client. Any gentleness that Nicholas might have had was awash in a sea of alcohol now. He grabbed her waist tightly and nuzzled the nape of her neck drunkenly.  
Mamoru told himself that it was just her bedside manner and that it didn't mean anything, but something like blinding jealousy and corrupting possessiveness ripped through his core. He felt the blood rise every inch as it rushed to his head and he wasn't even aware that he had stood up and forced his way to towards the stairs. Usagi hadn't paid attention, and Nicholas was so driven by lust, so neither saw him. The couple had disappeared before he'd even had a chance to do anything.  
The compelling rage that overwhelmed him made it impossible to see or even think straight. He couldn't stop the images from flooding his consciousness; the screen in his mind flickered with tawdry skin shots, sounds of ecstasy and a pungent humidity generated by body heat. It was his Usagi; she was his. He'd known what she did on a regular basis, but seeing it was colliding with his fantasy. It was cheap and easy and did not measure up with how he felt for her. She deserved more than any of this - and she certainly deserved more than Nicholas.  
The environment - the low lights, the deep jazz in the background, the smell of alcohol and perfume - was increasing the insanity inside his brain. His instincts said to run, to escape and calm his racing pulse. But he masochistically stayed put, casting aside all the advances of the cheap whores that attempted to solicit his business. He'd never felt more disdain for this line of work, and yet he'd never been so compelled to stay. Some internal warning light forced him to stay put. And it wasn't until an external one wailed that he realized why.  
A shrill, constant howl broke his thoughts immediately. The Madame at the front desk scurried up the stairs amidst the chaos downstairs that followed the alarm. Before realizing all the possibilities, Mamoru noticed the unlit 'fire' signs and figured that it wasn't flames that set it off.  
  
It was the safety alarm in one of the rooms.  
  
Without thinking, he chased the elderly house-leader, taking the stairs two at a time, unaware of how his pace and already quickened heart rate were affecting his thinking. Had he been paying attention, he would have recognized that it had stopped - he was running in instinct and thought was completely absent. The door was already flung open when he reached the door marked '7', where several girls had gathered curiously. He forced his way through, and even though he intuitively knew Usagi was in danger, he wasn't prepared to emotionally handle what he saw.  
Oblivious to the commotion he had already woken, Nicholas, half- naked, was straddling a writhing blonde beneath him on the satin sheets of the queen canopy bed. One massive paw was wrapped menacingly around her neck, while the other held her own at bay. He had scratch marks on his right cheek, and Mamoru guessed it was from the smaller girl attempting, in vain, to defend herself. He then noticed that the little clothing she was still wearing was in tatters - almost ripped beyond recognition, leaving very little unexposed. The fingers laced around her throat hampered the choking sobs that only intensified as he let go of her arm and used his now free fingers to grope the bare flesh beneath him. She was clearly overpowered, and struggling hopelessly. Both had yet to notice that mob at the door.  
It was mere seconds before a hulk of a man barreled in, forcing the other onlookers away, and thrusting Nicholas from Usagi with little effort. A gasp and a gurgle were all Mamoru could hear come from the blonde Englishman before he was hauled ceremoniously from the room, and, he suspected, from the building. And before he could move a muscle, almost a dozen of Usagi's colleagues flanked her. She was covered in a robe, and despite the burning, searing pain that was stabbing his gut, he simply stepped back and just watched these prostitutes-by-choice become mother hens. Usagi cried mercilessly on a shoulder, while numerous gentle hands soothed her gently. The Ring Leader, whom the girls called Madame, brought in a warm towel and washed her face clean of running mascara.  
It was the first time in his experience with the club that Mamoru actually respected those who dwelled there.  
  
*****  
  
He knew that after the ordeal, Mamoru wouldn't be permitted to just wait on the premises. Not only were the workers skittish, he had come in with Nicholas, and even though he wasn't kicked out, he was pretty certain he wasn't too welcome any longer.  
Mamoru was tracing a steady trail a few feet from the entrance to the club, pacing relentlessly. He had imagined that Usagi wouldn't stay on the clock today, perhaps even tomorrow, in order to recover. Truthfully, Mamoru hoped that this had woken her up to the dangers this line of work brought. He wanted her to get out. He wanted her to be free.  
He heard a door slam, and looked up just in time to run smack into a voluptuous brunette that he'd recognized from his many times at the club. She'd never propositioned him (she was one of the few) thankfully, and as she eyed him carefully now, he wondered if that wasn't out of respect for Usagi.  
"Are you waiting for someone?"  
Mamoru blanked on the correct reply. She could have recognized him as one of Nicholas's friends, so he didn't come out and say he was waiting for Usagi. But it was obvious he was remaining there by choice.  
"Well."  
"Serenity, isn't it?"  
"Huh?" He stumbled, dumbfounded. She cocked a grin and tossed her head to the side. Even when she wasn't working, he noticed, her movements were blatantly seductive.  
"You're the chap who comes to see Serenity on a regular basis, right?" She elaborated, even though he could tell by her tone that she wasn't looking for affirmation. "That's who you're waiting for then."  
"Yes." He said simply. The girl pulled out a cigarette and lit it in mere seconds. Taking a smoke-filled drag into her lungs, she nodded.  
"She'll be out in a few." She muttered as the gray fumes exited sickeningly close to Mamoru's face. He craned his head to the side to avoid them and she chuckled a deep drawl that told him she'd been inhaling this poison for years. "What do you want from her, anyway? I'm not sure she's going to be up for visitors." She asked, suddenly cautious. She emphasized that last word, 'visitors', lasciviously, implying she knew his intentions. He balked visibly at the notion.  
"I just want to make sure she's going to be alright."  
"She will. She always is." She stated matter-of-factly. Mamoru blanched.  
"This has happened to her before?" He asked incredulously, fighting the urge to grab her shoulders. She chuckled again.  
"It happens to us all, hun. That's what the panic button is for." She shrugged.  
Mamoru couldn't think of a coherent response. Why was Usagi doing this to herself? Who the hell cared if the money was good? She was going to get herself seriously hurt, or worse. He shut his eyes in an effort not to finish that thought.  
"Usagi will get through this, I promise. And she'll be stronger because of it." The woman replied after a deliberate pause, where Mamoru could tell she was gauging her words. It took him a second before he realized she had used her real name.  
"She shouldn't have to. This is masochism, what you women are putting yourselves through."  
"Usagi made her own choice, just like I did, and just like all the other girls did." She replied, shrugging again, as if it were really that simple. Her cavalier attitude made Mamoru's blood boil.  
"This isn't natural. She doesn't enjoy it, and I can't imagine any other self-respecting women would, either." His words were cutting, and they should have offended, but the helpless, lost expression that crossed her face for a moment simply told him he was right.  
Before she could reply though, the door opened and slammed again, revealing a shivering blonde Usagi, pulling her arms tightly around herself for warmth. Her eyes were on the ground, and she immediately heading in the opposite direction before she'd even seen the two of them standing there. Mamoru watched wordlessly, not sure what to do.  
"All we need is a reason to believe we're better than all this." The woman said gently, tipping her head toward the retreating blonde. She smiled and moved aside. Mamoru smiled warily, in spite of the day's events.  
  
"Thanks." He started, and then turned around.  
"Honora." She said. He raised a dubious eyebrow, but waved good- naturedly.  
"Thank you, Honora." He finished and scurried off towards the oblivious bobbing blonde head.  
  
*****  
  
"Usagi!"  
She whirled around, her facial expression taught and tense. Somewhere in the back of her mind, recognition clicked in. It was comforting, but it didn't ease her nerves. Her eyes softened visibly though, even though she was certain it wasn't involuntary.  
"Usagi.." He repeated, more out of reassurance this time. She attempted to suck up the emotions - she'd already told herself not to let go until she was safely inside her home. Not until she'd shut that door and locked the deadbolt. Not until she had locked the world out.  
"Wha.what are you doing here?" She asked, but by those stormy blue eyes she could tell he knew. He always seemed concerned when he was with her, almost like he thought he would break her. The look on his face told her he was afraid to even touch her.  
He didn't say a word; he just pulled her close and buried his nose in her nest of hair on the crown of her head. She was shocked, but didn't fight it. She'd stopped fighting him a long time ago; stopped fighting her own feelings.  
She didn't cry, but only because her mind was too clogged. She was ashamed of the events that night, and even though it wasn't the first time it had happened, she was careful never to complain. It was part of the guilt she, and every other colleague, had to deal with. This was a choice she made, and like every job, it came with hazards peculiar to every other profession. In some sense, she reasoned, she asked for it. It's only understandable that a man, especially a drunken one, would be rough. And when you buy something, you begin to see it as your own. And anyways, she was for rent, an hour at a time. Shouldn't he be able to do with her what he likes?  
But even she didn't believe that. No matter what she told herself, she couldn't convince her heart of that.  
"Where's your place?" He asked softly, craning his neck back so that he could look down on her.  
"'Bout three miles west." She said, studying her shoes, not able to look him in the eye. He noticed that and immediately grabbed her chin, keeping one protective arm around her waist. He forced her gaze upwards. When she wretched her face from his grip, she was acutely aware that she couldn't help it. "The Ahorn apartments." She said quickly, trying to cover the action with a head bob to the left.  
Mamoru noticed her unease, but let it go considering the circumstances. He couldn't imagine all that was going on inside her. Peculiar behavior was not his chief concern at this point. He kissed the top of her head gently and began slowly down the walkway.  
The journey, though small, took close to an hour, which was walked in silence. She wondered if perhaps he was feeling overwhelmed. He scared her still, not just because of her past, but because she loved him enough to know that he was in a position to inflict a lot more pain than any Jon ever could. She didn't get close to people, let alone men, for this reason. The rigors of her choice in careers was something she was accustomed to, albeit grudgingly. But outsiders, she feared, would not be able to take it all in. She lived this life, day in and day out. It was all she had, and therefore could handle it. But someone else, someone as stable as Mamoru, could not live his normal day-to-day existence and then support her as well. It was implausible, she told herself, to think that he would stick around for any considerable amount of time. It wouldn't be long before he figured out that he was in over his head.  
The air was brisk as they stepped along the broken concrete and the frigid breeze that blew Amsterdam at night was raising gooseflesh on Usagi's arms. She unconsciously shivered, but didn't say a word. Mamoru looked down at her, quaking slightly, and pulled his wool overcoat off and placed it on her shoulders. She didn't say a word; didn't even look in his direction, just pulled the too-large jacket closer. He gritted his teeth against the cold.  
She inhaled his scent from the scratchy material. He smelled like a real man. One who didn't bathe in cologne, but used it sparingly. His own personal odor was pungent enough to overpower it and mix to make a very distinctive fragrance. She couldn't imagine a more comforting smell in the world.  
It wasn't long before the squatting, middle class apartments appeared a few thousand feet ahead, and Usagi could feel her distractions melt away. The night's events were playing once more in her head in sickening detail. She bit her lip, trying to stop the chastising words that whispered in her ear. 'I didn't mean to do it. I swear.' She whimpered. 'I just couldn't be that person. Not after.."  
"I think we're here." Mamoru said softly, rubbing her arms through the thick material of his coat. Her head snapped to attention. He was giving her one of those unintentionally sweet smiles that only covered the bottom half of his face. His eyes and forehead betrayed the worried mind inside.  
She yanked at the heavy jacket and shook it out before handing it to him. He gave another weak smile and gently pushed it back into her arms.  
"You'll probably need it tomorrow." He said. She selfishly "forgot" to mention she had simply forgot to bring her own coat this evening. She wanted to keep this one. "What's your number?"  
"102."  
He laced his fingers through her own and entered the front gates. She was confused, wondering when he was going to say good night, as she pulled out her key when her door was in view. Before she could say a word in protest, he had snatched the key from her grasp and deftly let her inside, following closely behind.  
"Wow, how can you keep it so cold in here?" He said absently as he shut the door, letting a little shiver escape. She blinked. "It's almost as bad as it is outside"  
"Mamoru." She began. He gave her a blank, oblivious stare as he set down in a large chair in her front room. He was doing his best to appear easy-going, even though it took all his energy and patience to appear "normal". She wouldn't open up if he pried. He played dumb for the moment, knowing that she had to do it on her own time. And she would, even if he had to stay with her all night. In fact, he mused, he kind of hoped he had to.  
Usagi stared for a moment, quizzically, a little cautious. Mamoru was making himself at home, and she simply shed her outerwear (or rather, his outerwear), trying to gauge his behavior. She'd never invited him back to her place, but not because she didn't want him here. In the club she felt safe - all the sex in the world went on under that roof. But her home was sacred, and the goings-on of the club were dirty. She didn't want Mamoru to think that she was a whore off the clock as well. And up to this point in time, he'd never even expressed a desire to come home with her. Even the few times their interactions heated up, he would leave when his time was through without a fuss.  
"Uh, can I get you something to drink?" She asked after a moment. He smiled and nodded. She began to anxiously set up the coffeemaker, biting her lip unknowingly. Mamoru recognized that she was still on edge. He even suspected he was the cause of some of it.  
"This is a nice place." He said, standing up and taking it in a little better. The small complex was cozy, if a little old. He walked a few feet to the window that overlooked a tiny little walkway covered by trees that wove in and out of the buildings. It was quiet; not at all like he'd expected. Somehow, despite how well he knew Usagi now, he'd expected something loud and trendy and smack dab in the middle of town. The stereotypical part of his brain reasoned that that was the kind of place a prostitute would live. At least according to the movies they would. But the other part, the one that had gotten to know Usagi as more than just her career choice, knew that something low-key and modest was more her style. He liked it. She'd decorated very comfortably, and he could tell that the décor was probably where all her money went; it was pretty expensive, if rather unremarkable. It had a feminine touch too, which didn't surprise Mamoru a bit. Something told him that Usagi was probably insanely girly deep down. He grinned in spite of himself, picturing Usagi as a giggling schoolgirl at an ice-cream shop or a video arcade. He even stifled a chuckle at the thought of her in one of the characteristic Japanese High School uniforms, complete with bow and pleated skirt. He sobered quickly though, reminding himself that Usagi never had a chance to be the typical kid. She was stuck in this grown-up lifestyle, acting mature but still so innocent and naïve on the inside. His smile was gone now as he heard a door shut softly, and Usagi came back into the room wearing grew Capri sweat pants and an oversized printed tee. Her hair was back up in those adorable buns, too.  
"I like this complex." He restated now, following her into the kitchenette. It was small; barely enough room for two, but it was full with a stove and dishwasher. She retrieved two ceramic mugs from the cabinet above her head and poured the brown liquid into each and handed him one.  
"Cream or sugar?"  
"None thanks."  
She tilted her head to the side and scrunched up her nose. "Black?"  
He grinned. "I like it strong."  
From there they moved into the quaint little living area and sat facing each other on the plush love seat. She tucked a leg under her and leaned her head against her palm, watching him adjust his position to get comfortable. He took long sips from his cup and she let her emotions get the better of her as she just began to appreciate the beauty in this man before her. She didn't want to let her guard down, and her common sense told her to stop giving in, but she reasoned that after tonight, she didn't have the strength. But if she were to listen to her heart, she'd know that she just didn't want to play her defenses tonight. She never wanted to when he was around. Inevitably he'd leave and she'd convince herself to keep her distance next time - always "next time". But as soon as he'd smile at her, or even worse, put those massive arms around her, she'd melt and it would all go to pot. She would give in and once more, the fear would fade into oblivion. He had a way about him, she mused to herself.  
"I like this part of town. It's a lot quieter than the around the college where I am." He said, craning his neck to look out the window again.  
"How far is the college?" She prodded, not only curious but also hoping to keep the topic of conversation off of the past few hours. He paused and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. She smiled. He sure was cute.  
"Maybe 10 or 12 miles from here." He nodded, taking another sip from the mug before setting it on the coffee table. "I've been in Amsterdam for months, and I still get turned around on the streets. I don't even know where we are."  
"You shouldn't have trouble getting back."  
He got a devious grin on his face. "I dunno. I'm afraid I might get lost."  
She didn't catch on as she shook her head. "You can always call a cab."  
"You gonna send me out into the cold at this time of night? All alone? What happens if they find me tomorrow morning, all frostbitten and blue.." He waxed woe.  
She finally smirked, and pressed a socked foot into his chest. "Dork. Something tells me you'd find a way."  
"I'm kinda tired, too.. What if I pass out from exhaustion?" He sighed heavily, playing the distress card by putting the back of his palm against his forehead. "In fact, I'm feeling a little faint right now. I think I'd better lie down.." Mamoru closed his eyes and changed position so that his head was cradled in her lap. She giggled, a high-pitched sound that Mamoru was sure he'd never heard from her before. He settled in, enjoying the warmth he could feel from her body through her clothing against his face and head. She too readjusted, now leaning backwards into the armrest, stroking his hair gingerly. This was what she imagined a normal relationship was like - joking, poking fun at each other. She was acutely aware that her guard was not only down, but completely forgotten, and her mind was still nagging her to kick him out before something happen that either of them might regret. But feeling his body rise and fall as it lay against her own; touching him freely without any fear; knowing that he was just as relaxed as she was, it all was too much for her mind and good judgment to combat. So for the moment, her anxiety departed and she simply fell into whatever it was she was experiencing. It wasn't just love - she'd admitted that to herself long ago - it was security. And she realized that she'd never felt it before. This was completely new to her. She marveled silently that Mamoru was teaching her things that seemed so simple and she wondered how she ever lived without them.  
"I love you, you know."  
The words were so matter of fact that she had to stop and question whether she'd really heard it.  
"Wha.what?" She stumbled, her movements pausing. He didn't even blink when he said it. She must have misheard him.  
"I love you." He repeated.  
Somehow, deep down, she'd known. But it was the bad news her mind wanted to convince her of otherwise, so she put it out of her mind.until now. Her heart was pounding; her mind was reeling, trying in vain to cover up the sincerity in his voice, trying to rationalize it away. Her brain was working overtime to convince her that the words he just spoke were a lie, a complete fake. But it wasn't working.  
Mamoru felt the tears fall before he ever heard the cries or felt the shaking inside her chest. He sat abruptly up and turned to face her. She wasn't sobbing though, he marveled. Brushing the tears away with his fingers, he just stared at her, wondering how she would respond. He knew that if she was honest with herself she would realize that she could feel nothing else but the same, and yet he knew how bottled up she was.  
"I love you, Usako." He paused, letting the words sink in again and then brushed a lock of her hair from her eyes so that she had to look him in the eyes. "I'm in love with you."  
The cries came out in huge, wracking sobs now and she couldn't stop them. He shushed her and within seconds the noise had died down, but her eyes were none the drier.  
"Why?" She demanded with such a fervor that Mamoru almost laughed. He cupped her face in his hands and held her gaze for as long as he could without letting the words spill anxiously from his lips.  
"Because I do and because I can." He said simply, and then continued about thinking. "Because I'm alive and breathing and sitting here next to you. There's no other reason for it and if there were, it wouldn't really be love. It would be justified affection. I could name a million things I think are cute about you, or things that make me smile, but they are just tiny, miniscule factors that make up a larger fact." He smiled, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "I don't love you because of all those things, I love those things because they are a part of you. And you are what I love."  
  
"Oh God, Mamoru. if you only knew.." She started, choking on the words.  
"Knew what? Your past? Your career? Your choices? You can't tell me something that I haven't already considered." He kissed her forehead.  
"How can you love me in spite of all that?"  
"I don't. I love you because of it. It made you who you are." He smiled widely and leaned in closer, pulling her into his arms. "And, I've already said it, but I'll say it again since I like the way it sounds." he winked, "I love who you are and what you've become."  
"Mamoru, everything that happened tonight. all the stuff that I've struggled with these past few weeks.." She struggled to put it all into words, but as she fought back the fear and hesitation, her desperation faded farther and farther away. "It's all happened because of you. You are what's messing up the finely crafted illusion I've lived in the past two years.  
"I can't stop thinking about you and all I want to do is run away and never come back. I've had to face so much because of all that you've offered me." She wrinkled her forehead, trying to find the words. "Tonight, at the club after you left me, I tried to go about my business like before. But that English guy paid and I tried to perform." She stopped and it was all Mamoru could do not to show his disgust, but he wanted her to continue. He wanted to hear this. "But I just couldn't. I couldn't equate what I'd been doing for two years with a job. Nothing seemed to fit anymore. You confused the hell out of me. And when that guy tried to start. I froze. I just. couldn't." She erupted in sobs again, more scared than she ever remembered being before, wanting nothing more than to give in.  
"I'm so sorry this night ever took place. I'd spend every waking moment with you in that club if I could, just to make sure no one ever touched you again." He said, finding it hard to mask his revulsion at the thought of someone laying even a finger on his Usagi. He was awed by the selfishness he felt boiling inside him; she was his now. He wanted to be the only one to whisper in her ear, brush hair from her face, reach for her at night, stroke her flesh. He could honestly imagine himself ripping someone apart for infringing on his property. It was simple - she was his.  
"Mamoru, I love you and I have since that first night. I just never thought it was safe to feel that way." Tears feel fresh as she spoke. "But I can't hide it like my mind wanted me to."  
"Good." He said, pulling her close. "Because I wasn't going to leave until you told me. And now that you have, I don't think I can leave..."  
She sighed, relieved for the first time that night as he whispered.  
"Ever."  
  
*************************************** WOW.  
  
It's been a long time since I've written anything..  
  
And I'm very happy I waited. I really like this. I know where it's going now, how it's gonna end and what the epilogue will be. ^^ I'm very excited. I might actually FINISH a series this time.  
  
Hey! Don't be so cynical! It can be done..  
  
Anyway, thanks to all the reviewers thus far. ^^ You are all my new best friends!  
  
cielenvoye@yahoo.com  
  
slr_europa@yahoo.com 


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